iiiiinii. Willi 


tCfje  ILibrarp 

oft!)e 

©mbergitpofjSortliCaroIma 


Collection  of  i^ortij  Caroliniana 
C8I3 


This  book  must  not 
be  taken  from  the 
Library  building. 


i  ■.-. ,-  eo  '-'  1 


//> 


^>^.yt^   Crz.^^-^  /^t*,-^ 


A    DAUGHTER   of  the 
HIGHLANDERS 


BY 


FRANCES   JONES   MELTON 


BOSTON 

The  Roxburgh  Publishing  Company 
(incorporated) 


Copyright  1910 
By  The  Roxburgh  Publishing  Co. 
All   Rights   Reserved 


DEDICATED 

To  my  classmates— the  dear  lads  and  lassies— lineal 
descendants  of  the  exiles  who  had  followed  "Bonny 
Prmce  Charley"  to  the  fatal  Battle  of  Culloden ;  in 
memory  of  the  days  when  we  went  a-Maying'  to 
gather  jessamine  and  arbutus  in  the  pine-lands. 

Author. 


;3 


BOOK  I. 

Spring. 

".      .      .     And  I  heard  the  voice  of  old  gardens, 

Of  quiet  woodland  ways; 
But  few  hearts  there  were  who  would  heed  them 

In  the  rush  of  the  busy  days. 
The  cities  grow  old  and  vanish, 

And  their  people  faint  and  die; 
But  the  grasses  are  green  forever. 

Forever  blue  is  the  sky." 

— Selected. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The     Forest — Jessamine     and     Arbutus — The 
School  and  Ruth. 

'• dream  of  vine-clad  hills 

And  fragrant  fields  where  violets  bend  before 

The  kissing  breeze,  love  shy;  and  robins  pour 

Their  throbbing  songs  upon  the  air;  and  rills 

Low  murmuring  gently  creep  with  peace  that  fills 

The  saddened  heart  with  longings  for  the  lore 

Of  Nature's  mind."  —Selected. 

Inflorescent  Spring-time,  with  its  asphodelian 
tapestry,  its  delicate  wealth  of  emerald  tinting,  its 
soothing  ripple  of  belated  water,  and  grateful  sigh- 
ing of  warmth-laden  breezes,  was  reigning 
prophetically. 

The  vivid  simlight  fell  broadly;  the  earth  basked 
genially;  even  in  the  pine-barrens  the  rejuvenating 
influence  of  the  coy  season  was  portrayed  in  the 
budding  scrub-oaks ;  in  the  mtense  color  of  the  sap- 
filled  pine  needles  and  the  balsamic  tonicity  of  the 
translucent  atmosphere. 

In  the  slightest  concavity  of  the  mounding  hills 
clothed  in  vigorous,  long-leaf  pines,  it  was  empha- 
sized by  a  remarkable  display  of  blossoms  and  deli- 
cate vines. 

The  crystal  sunlight  sifting  through  the  plumed 
pines  imbibed  a  mystic  tinge  of  gold-alloyed  emerald 


Z  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

to  pervade  the  light  shed  beneath  the  sheltering  vault 
of  canopied  forest.  The  impressive  solemnity  of  the 
secluded  solitude ;  the  stately  seeming  of  the  tall 
pines ;  the  glittering  sheen  of  the  sandy  soil ;  the 
glancing  light  upon  the  glistening  pine  needles ;  aye, 
the  bubbling  joy  of  infantile  Spring-time;  its  mys- 
terious hopes  and  golden  promises,  stirred  and 
thrilled  the  heart  of  Edwin  Phillips  as  spirit-filled 
wine  sends  its  permeating  glow  through  the  veins. 
The  inspiring  glamor  of  Spring's  individuality  was 
so  fascinatingly  suggestive  of  heart-emotions  it 
evoked  vague  longings  and  promulgated  intangible 
dreams. 

The  two  months  he  had  spent  at  the  Turpentine 
Camp  had  been  so  squalid  and  dreary,  with  chill 
winds  intruding  through  the  cracks  in  the  walls  of 
his  shanty;  in  February,  snow  and  ice  dissolving  in 
an  uncomfortable  slush  and  the  atmosphere  reeking 
with  a  depressing  dampness ;  in  March,  sharp  winds 
shrieking  and  blustering  and  rasping  his  nerves,  ren- 
dered life  very  unpleasant,  generally,  at  the  bare, 
make-shift  camp.  He  had  grown  homesick,  restless 
and  disillusioned  with  the  ambition  to  make  money 
at  any  cost  to  personal  inclination  or  comfort. 

It  had  been  so  different  to  any  other  experience 
of  his  well-bred  life!  Why,  in  the  mid-Winter,  that 
then  seemed  forlornly  distant,  he  had  danced  and 
dined  in  a  dress  suit,  in  the  company  of  girls  in 
evening  dress ;  and  he  loved  society  and  dancing 
upon  waxed  floors  to  the  passionate  music  of  skilled 
orchestras. 

Societv  and  its  artistic  conventional  refinement 
had  been  the  stimulus  of  his  youth,  and  was  the  real 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  6 

influence  that  had  impelled  him  away  from  a  very 
comfortable  parental  roof-tree  to  go  into  exile  in 
the  sand-barred,  piney  woods. 

He  had  finally,  and  reluctantly,  realized  that  a 
position  in  society  rested  solely  upon  golden  pillars, 
that  a  golden  key  alone  could  open  the  door  giving 
ingress  to  its  costly  sanctuary.  The  knowledge  had 
not  been  pleasant ;  self-esteem  had  dwindled  when 
weighed  in  its  iron-hearted,  exacting  scales,  but  he 
had  quietly  folded  away  his  dress  suit  and  turned  his 
face  toward  the  wilderness  to  toil  obscurely  for  the 
omnipotent  gold  which  he  had  sincerely  believed 
alone  could  assure  him  the  happiness  he  coveted. 

No  California  gold  fields  lured  his  cupidious 
mind ;  no  Klondike  tempted  his  pressing  desire  for 
gain ;  fortune  beckoned  from  another  and  more  pro- 
saic direction.  A  cousin,  much  older  than  himself, 
had  gone  out  to  the  pine-lands  the  previous  year, 
and  worked  turpentine  in  that  favorable  and  un- 
crowded  locality.  His  cousin's  name  was  Henry 
Stephenson,  and  he  had  cleared  several  hundreds  of 
dollars  by  the  venture.  He  had  brought  his  family 
out  and  rendered  them  as  comfortable  as  circum- 
stances permitted. 

Edwin  Phillips  had  been  induced  to  join  him  and 
invest  his  limited  capital  in  a  sure  thing  in  naval 
stores. 

He  had  fetched  his  trunk,  a  few  good  books,  a 
prized  horse  and  light  buggy.  His  share  of  the 
labor  of  the  outfit  was  to  keep  the  accounts  and  to 
ride  from  one  orchard  of  pines  to  another  and  give 
an  oversight  to  the  work  in  the  forest,  where  men 
hacked  the  boxed  trees  with  weighted,  handled  in- 


4  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

struments,  and  later  would  ladle  the  raw  product 
from  the  scooped  incisions  which  arrested  and  re- 
tained the  oozings  from  the  scarified  surface  above. 

Work  had  been  preparatory  and  urgent  against 
the  time  when  the  sun  would  warm  the  sap-laden 
trees  and  they  could  manipulate  the  State's  typical 
product ;  and  his  mind  had  been  burdened  with  the 
effort  to  understand  intelligently  the,  to  him,  new 
and  novel  business.  But  he  was  familiar  with  the 
details  then ;  and  the  work  had  assumed  a  more 
prosperous  seeming. 

The  youth  of  his  twenty-five  years  asserted  itself 
in  spite  of  his  manly  endeavor  for  fortune.  His 
was  a  youthful  temperament  not  easily  subjected 
into  staid  and  sedate  behavior.  His  glossy,  black 
hair  was  neatly  brushed,  his  blue  flannel  blouse  was 
redeemed  by  a  skilfully  adjusted  gray  silk  scarf;  his 
coat  fitted  him  with  the  grace  attained  by  a  com- 
petent tailor;  his  wide-brimmed,  soft  hat  was  worn 
jauntily.  At  the  camp  he,  invariably,  maintained  a 
dignity  of  manner  and  a  neatness  in  attire  that  dis- 
tinguished him  above  all  the  other  men  with  whom 
he  was  associated  in  the  woods.  His  horse  was  nicely 
groomed,  his  buggy  and  harness  ever  gleamed  with 
polished  purity. 

That  day,  or  rather  late  afternoon,  he  drove 
briskly  along  the  root-checkered  road,  enjoying  the 
exhilarating  movement;  and  Spring's  influence  sur- 
charged his  mood  with  its  flowery  blitheness.  He 
chirped  to  his  horse,  he  whistled;  and  finally  he 
hummed  the  last  waltz  he  had  danced  with  Maude 
Endiston. 

A  shadow  flitted  over  his  handsome  countenance, 


A     DAUGHTER     OF      THE      HIGHLANDERS  5 

a  shadow  like  that  cast  by  a  straying  April  cloud- 
wrack,  eclipsing  a  sunny  landscape ;  and  he  ceased 
to  sing.  For  a  moment  he  frowned  in  unpleasant 
thought.  Maude  Endiston,  he  knew,  or  at  least  he 
did  not  doubt,  was  dancing  still,  and,  perhaps,  flirt- 
ing while  he  was  far  away,  toiling  for  a  fortune  to 
win  her.  His  mind  with  some  effort  shed  the  reflec- 
tion, and  he  whistled  again,  but  not  quite  so  merrily 
as  previously. 

In  a  little  dell  a  pine  sapling  lent  its  support  to  a 
wreathing,  goldenbell  laden  vine.  The  intense, 
flaming  color  commanded  his  attention.  He  gazed 
admiringly,  drew  rein,  and  sprang  to  the  ground. 
He  stood  entranced  by  the  swaying  tendrils.  Never 
had  he  beheld  anything  so  perfectly  lovely  and 
graceful. 

"Jennie  must  have  some  of  this,"  he  said,  ad- 
dressing the  thought  that,  in  her  shanty  home, 
Jennie's  life  held  many  deprivations  she  had  not 
hitherto  had  to  endure ;  and  he  gathered  a  sheaf  of 
the  waxy  blossoms.  They  emitted  a  powerful  fra- 
grance peculiarly  penetrative.  He  folded  them  care- 
fully behind  the  curtain  of  the  seat  cushion  of  his 
buggy,  then  turned  for  a  parting  glimpse  of  the 
charming  woodland  oasis. 

A  gleam  of  delicate  rose-color  among  glistening 
green  leaves  arrested  his  glancing  scrutiny.  He 
turned  back  and  plucked  some  leaves  and  dainty 
blossoms  and  stowed  them  with  the  first  forage. 
The  beauty  and  the  fragility  of  the  wild  things 
pleased  him. 

"I  have  never  seen  and  shall  never  see  anything 
more  lovely,"  he  reflected,  as  he  drove  away.     He 


O  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE      HIGHLANDERS 

squinted  at  the  declining  sun  and  urged  his  horse 
into  a  swifter  pace.  He  had  promised  Jennie's  chil- 
dren, as  a  reward  for  some  unusually  good  behavior, 
to  come  to  their  school  and  take  them  home  in  his 
buggy,  and  he  was  then  on  his  way  to  keep  faith 
with  them. 

He  had  never  been  in  that  particular  locality,  and 
noted  with  the  glance  of  a  connoisseur,  who  could 
place  the  price  upon  the  product  of  a  tree  instantly, 
the  vigorous,  slender  pines  which  stood,  primevally, 
along  the  way. 

The  ozonic  breath  of  the  pine-lands  filled  his 
nostrils  with  balsamic  breathings.  He  inflated  his 
lungs,  he  exhaled  enjoyably.  The  land  was  not  so 
monotonous  then,  when  April  had  flung  her  mild, 
evocative  sway  broadcast. 

In  March's  blustering  reign,  he  had  been  afraid 
and  uncomfortable.  Danger  had  lurked  in  those 
woods  then,  swift,  fatal  menace,  when  unsound 
limbs  and  trees  fell  constantly,  and  to  be  abroad 
meant  the  bearing  of  the  courage  that  sustains  a 
soldier  in  a  field  swept  with  musket  and  cannon 
balls. 

No  hint  of  danger  was  consonant  with  the  serene 
and  smiling  mood  of  Nature  that  lovely  April  -day, 
so  he  could  sing  and  whistle  blithely  and  forget  for 
the  sweet  moment  that  he  was  far  from  home  and  all 
he  prized  and  cherished. 

He  was  supremely  handsome,  that  debonair,  san- 
guine Edwin  Phillips.  His  features  were  almost 
feminine  in  contour  and  gentleness  of  expression ; 
they  mirrored  smiles  so-  tenderly  winning  that  they 
bore  in  repose  a  mirage  of  the  charm  of  those  past 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  7 

and  those  belonging  to  the  near  future ;  his  eyes 
were  Hquiclly  dark  and  kiminous,  with  a  wistful 
light  which  won  by  the  appeal  that  touches  the  heart 
rather  than  commands  the  understanding. 

His  manner  was  cultured,  easy,  and  entirely  free 
from  affectation,  although  gracefully  engaging.  He 
was  more  humble  than  haughty  in  mien,  more  plead- 
ing than  commanding,  even  in  his  business  relations 
with  men,  yet  there  was  great  strength  in  his  per- 
sonality, virile,  muscular  force,  and  distinct,  attrac- 
tive individuality,  emanating  from  inherent  qual- 
ities portrayed  in  indefinable  traits  in  mind  and 
physiognomy ;  even  as  a  certain  air  of  personal 
vanity  was  suggested  obscurely ;  nevertheless,  he 
had  been  richly  endowed  with  one  invaluable  gift, 
personal  magnetism.  It  won  for  him  the  most 
pleasant  things  of  Hfe,  the  liking  of  men  and  the 
love  of  women,  the  devotion  of  relatives  and  the 
confidence  and  esteem  of  every  one  who  fell  beneath 
its  seductive  sway. 

He  was  popular  in  society,  greatly  beloved  in  his 
home  and  his  innate  amiability  and  caressing  voice 
paved  a  rose-lighted  way  for  him  to  travel. 

He  chirped  encouragingly  to  his  horse  as  he 
turned  into  a  broad  highway,  leaving  behind  him  the 
narrow  woods  road.  Glancing  either  way,  the  vista 
charmed  him,  as  the  white-sanded  road  dwindled 
into  distances,  colonaded  by  tall,  slender  pines.  He 
sped  his  horse  down  the  road  southward,  that  he 
might  not  miss  the  children,  who  usually  traveled 
footpaths  that  shortened  the  distance.  Soon  he  ar- 
rived at  his  destination,  a  low,  sharp-roofed,  white 


8  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

building,  its  glazed  windows  blazing  with  reflections 
of  the  westerning  sun. 

He  was  relieved  to  find  that  he  was  on  time  to 
keep  faith  with  the  children  School  was  dismissed 
though,  and  they  were  on  the  playground.  His  ar- 
rival created  a  sensation  among  the  scholars,  who 
gathered  about  the  vehicle,  curious  and  interested. 
The  Stephenson  children  climbed  into  the  buggy  and 
seated,  posed  for  the  benefit  of  their  envious  mates, 
who  were  not  so  fortunate. 

The  teacher,  Donald  MacKethan,  came  to  clasp 
his  hand  courteously  and  cordially.  He  gave  his 
name  and  stood  with  bare  head  conversing  formally. 
They  exchanged  views  upon  the  weather,  the  season, 
and  Donald  expressed  his  admiration  for  the  horse, 
a  really  fine  animal. 

While  this  interchange  was  in  progress  Edwin 
Phillips  chanced  to  lift  his  eyes  from  the  face  of  his 
new  acquaintance  and  the  polite  speech  on  his 
tongue  faltered  into  an  incoherent  murmur.  Amaze- 
ment superseded  all  other  ideas.  He  gazed  admir- 
ingly and  caught  his  breath  in  a  short,  quavering 
gasp.  Donald  MacKethan,  to  cover  an  awkward 
silence,  playfully  wedged  the  little  son  of  the  dis- 
tiller at  the  turpentime  camp  and  the  youngest 
daughter  of  Henry  Stephenson  into  the  limited 
space  shared  by  three  pairs  of  feet  on  the  floor  of 
the  small  bugg>'.  The  scholars  viewed  his  disposi- 
tion of  the  boy  and  girl,  and  Edwin  stared  as  he  had 
never  before  in  all  his  well-bred  life,  over  the  group 
near  him,  to  where  a  freckle-faced  boy  was  closing 
the  door  to  the  rural  hall  of  learning,  and  a  slender, 
queenly-poised  girl  was  descending  the  steps  leading 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  9 

to  the  portico  sheltering  the  classically  fashioned 
entrance ;  a  girl  so  much  fairer  and  lovelier  than  any 
he  had  ever  beheld.  He  held  his  breath  as  he 
realized  her  perfections. 

She  was  robed  in  soft,  white  flannel  and  a  dainty 
jacket  of  blue  velvet,  her  flowing,  yellow  hair 
crowned  with  an  azure  bow  of  satin  ribbon  and 
floating  free  in  a  gleaming  cascade  of  golden  waves 
over  her  youthful  shoulders.  Suspended  from  her 
arm  was  a  book-satchel  and  she  carried  a  white 
frilled  sunbonnet  swinging  from  her  hands  by  broad, 
white  strings.  Her  complexion  was  as  transparent 
and  as  delicately  tinted  as  the  waxy  arbutus  he  had 
just  plucked  in  the  forest ;  but  her  most  potent 
charm  was  the  ineffable  purity  and  innocense  of  her 
expression  and  appearance. 

As  she  was  passing  by  the  group  around  his  buggy 
she  lifted  her  dark  eyes,  frankly  meeting  his  impas- 
sioned scrutiny.  An  emotion  akin  to  pain  contracted 
his  heart  as  the  beauty  of  their  soulful  depths  was 
revealed  to  him  briefly,  but  indelibly.  Thoroughly 
entranced,  he  instinctively  lifted  his  hat  and  saluted 
her.  She  returned  the  courtesy  with  a  slight  and 
silent  obeisance ;  then  her  eyes  sought  and  swept 
the  horse  with  admiring  interest.  A  flaxen-haired 
boy  detachel  himself  from  the  press  of  idle  boys  and 
joined  her;  and,  together,  they  crossed  the  highway 
to  pursue  a  road  leading  directly  westward. 

Donald  made  a  movement  suggesting  dismissal 
and  dispersal,  and  lifted  his  hat  in  adieu. 

"I  am  glad  to  have  met  you,  Mr.  Phillips,"  he  said 
cordially.  "May  I  hope  that  the  pleasure  is  mutual, 
and  that  we  may  meet  again,  early  and  often?" 


10  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

Edwin  drew  his  eyes  from  the  girl  and  her  com- 
panion reluctantly,  and  promptly  responded  with 
eflfusive  thanks  and  acquiescence  to  the  overtures  of 
his  new  acquaintance. 

The  children  dispersed,  and  he  turned  his  horse 
into  the  highway.  Far  down  the  dim  road,  through 
vistas  of  pines,  he  could  get  glimpses  of  the  blue  and 
white-robed  figure  and  the  picturesque  boy  in  velvet 
knickerbockers,  a  gay  plaid  sash  knotted  at  his  side, 
a  green  velvet  cap  tipped  saucily  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  his  abundant  flaxen  hair  floating  in  long  fluffy 
curls  over  his  sturdy  shoulders,  although  he  was 
quite  twelve  years  of  age. 

They  seemed  to  him  so  alien,  so  foreign  to  the 
forest,  rather  they  were  suited  to  a  page  of  romance 
they  were  so  refined  in  appearance,  so  daintily  clad, 
so  superior  in  every  way,  to  be  denizens  of  a  remote 
country-side. 

He  had  caught  the  glitter  and  sparkle  of  gems  as 
the  girl  went  by,  and  the  boy  resembled  the  page  of 
a  princess. 

"Who  is  that?"  he  demanded  of  Jennie's  eldest 
daughter,  and  he  indicated  the  point  where  she  was 
disappearing  at  a  distant  bend  of  the  road  she  was 
traversing  with  accelerated  step. 

"Oh,  that  is  Ruth !  Didn't  you  know  who  she 
was?"  Lina  replied,  readily. 

"Indeed,  I  did  not  know  her !  How  could  I  know 
who  she  was  when  I  have  never  seen  her  until  this 
moment?  Surely  she  has  some  other  name  than 
simple  Ruth?"  he  persisted. 

Lina,  who  had  been  bubbling  with  the  pleasure  of 
a  ride,  became  semi-serious  with  unavailing  thought. 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  11 

"I  have  forgotten,"  she  said,  blankly.  "In  this 
country  they  call  people  so  simply.  Why,  most  of 
the  scholars  call  the  teacher  Donald,  but  we  do  not; 
Mama  forbade  it.  But  who  is  Ruth,  Lena?  The 
Ruth  with  Jamie."  

"Why,  Ruth I  don't  know,"  Lena  confessed 

as  blankly  as  her  elder  sister. 

"You  should  be  ashamed  not  to  know  a  school- 
mate like  her,"  Edwin  rebuked  them,  chidingly. 

"But  we  only  know  that  much  of  her  name,  and 
it  ain't  that  we  do  not  know  her ;  although  she  ain't 
a  bit  like  the  rest  of  us,  I  can  tell  you.  She  wears 
the  nicest  clothes  ;  she's  always  so  nice  and  beautiful, 
and  comes  to  school  in  a  fine  carriage  if  the  weather 
is  the  least  bit  ugly.  My  !  How  I  wish  I  was  her !" 
concluded  the  ambitious  and  frank  Lina,  whose 
native  desire  for  luxurious  surroundings  had  been 
intensified  by  the  austerity  of  life  in  the  pine-woods. 

"Ask  Mama,  Cousin  Edwin,"  the  younger  but 
more  practical  Lena  advised,  noting  his  disappoint- 
ment. "She'll  tell  all  about  Ruth,  for  she  went  with 
us  all  to  see  her  once." 

"Oh,  yes !  and  My !  rode  in  her  carriage  there,  and 
nearly  killed  ourselves  eating.  Yes,  ask  Mama, 
Cousin  Edwin,  and  please  let  us  drive  faster  on  this 
nice  road.  I  do  love  to  ride  real  fast,"  contributed 
the  vivacious  Lina. 

To  please  her,  he  drove  swiftly  up  the  broad  high- 
way to  the  junction  of  the  woods  road  that  would 
lead  them  directly  eastward  to  the  camp ;  and  that 
road  was  so  encumbered  by  scrub  oaks  and  so  paved 
with  pine  roots,  he  drove  carefully  the  crowded, 


12  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

frail  vehicle,  but  he  did  not  whistle,  neither  did  he 
listen  to  the  chatter  of  the  elated  children. 

The  sunlight  faded,  a  sunset  radiance  gilded  the 
green  forest;  the  zephyrs  sank  into  languishing 
whispers.  How  still  the  forest !  How  impressive 
the  unbroken  solitude ! 


CHAPTER  n. 

The  Turpentine  Camp — The  High-landers — A 
Letter  and  Violets. 

"Tomorrow  and  to-morrow!     Shell  there  be 
Perchance  a  morrow  when  I  shall  not  see 
Your  face  before  me  any  more?    Ah,  no, 
My  love,  my  love,  I  cannot  let  you  go." 

".      .      .     But  ever  perfect,  ever  wise  and  true, 
To-morrow  and  to-morrow  beholding  you." 

— Whitney. 

When  the  twilight  supper  at  the  camp  had  been 
eaten  and  the  men  had  dispersed  to  their  shanties 
or  duties  elsewhere ;  when  moonlight  as  misty  and 
ethereal  as  a  spiritual  realm  illumined  the  whisper- 
ing forest ;  when  Jennie  Stephenson  sat  out  on  the 
rustic  porch  of  the  family  shanty  and  crooned  to 
Henry,  Jr.,  her  youngest  child,  as  she  swayed  back 
and  forth  in  a  low  rocking-chair,  which  thumped  the 
rough  floor  noisily,  Edwin  Phillips  closed  the  ledger 
in  which  he  had  been  figuring  steadily  since  the 
supper  hour,  lit  a  cigar,  and  strolled  over  the  inter- 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  13 

vening,  cleanly  swept  space  between  his  and  the 
Stephenson  shanty,  and  seated  himself  on  the  door- 
step to  interview  Jennie. 

She  welcomed  him  gladly,  pleased  to  have  some- 
one to  converse  with  after  the  long,  uneventful  day. 
She  thanked  him  effusively  for  the  flowers  he  had 
kindly  gathered  for  her. 

"They  are  jessamine  and  arbutus,"  she  informed 
him.  "The  unrivalled  jessamine  and  the  dainty 
arbutus,  the  trailing  variety,  the  most  exquisite 
things  in  the  forest." 

"I  did  not  know  their  kind,  but  I  realized  their 
beauty,"  he  said.  "I  would  be  glad  to  send  Mama 
some  of  them.  I  am  sure  she  has  never  seen  any- 
thing like  them,  and  you  know  her  passion  for 
flowers." 

"But  you  cannot  send  them,"  she  assured  him,  re- 
gretfully. "They  are  so  fragile.  Those  you  fetched 
me  will  have  wilted  by  to-morrow.  I  learned  that 
much  about  them  last  year,  and  also  that  there  was  a 
peculiar  poison  pertaining  to  the  jessamine  blossoms 
that  will  give  one  a  headache  and  nausea.  I  have 
forbidden  the  children  inhaling  their  fragrance,  and 
I  warn  you  of  the  danger  lurking  in  those  lovely, 
golden  bells,  with  all  their  beauty." 

He  listened  with  absent-minded  attention,  giving 
but  sufficient  heed  to  be  informed  on  a  subject  that 
was  to  him  vitally  interesting. 

It  had  been  a  wonderful  day  and  it  was  a  charm- 
ing night !  The  day  with  a  sapphire  sky,  an  unblem- 
ished sun  and  a  fragrant  atmosphere,  the  most  per- 
fect of  his  life,  crowned  with  its  most  blissful  night. 
Finally  he  was  rewarded  for  his  politic  attitude  and 


14  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

forced  attention,  when  she  reverted  to  the  social  lack 
in  her  daily  life. 

"But  there  are  people  about  here,  very  nice  people, 
too,  are  there  not?"  he  queried,  purposely. 

"Oh!"  Jennie  exclaimed,  and  then  paused,  puzzled 
how  to  proceed  in  explaining  a  situation  she  under- 
stood but  vaguely.  "They  are  all  Scotch,  you  know," 
she  said  finally,  and  with  meaning.  "This  is 
veritably  a  land  of  Macs.  They  call  themselves  High- 
landers. I  have  yet  to  hear  one  style  himself  an 
American,  much  less  a  Carolinian.  First  they  are 
High-landers,  and  last  those  other  things ;  in  their 
peculiar  estimation.  Oh,  yes,  they  are  pure,  unadul- 
terated Scotch,  and  have  been  here,"  she  looked 
abroad  into  the  moonlighted  forest,  "since  the  world 
began — out  here,"  she  concluded,  laughing  at  her 
own  exaggeration.  Then  in  a  serious  tone  she  con- 
tinued her  dissertation  upon  her  stranger  neighbors. 

"The  few  that  are  in  this  locality  are  generally 
very  quiet  and  unobtrusive,  but  not  exclusive,  and 
so  clannish  as  they  are  popularly  reported  to  be.  I 
have  found  them  very  kind  and  cordial,  I  am  sure. 
Otherwise,  I  am  convinced  I  should  have  starved 
before  I  learned  to  manage  and  provide  the  necessi- 
ties, under  the  circumstances,  when  I  first  came  out 
here.  They  were,  indeed,  kind  to  me  in  my  sore 
need  of  those  days,"  she  said,  reflectively. 

"But  who  are  they?  I  have  seen  so  few  of  any 
of  them.  Where  do  they  live?"  he  questioned,  im- 
plicitly hoping  to  divert  her  from  a  general  to  a  per- 
sonal description  of  their  unfamiliar  neighbors. 

"Oh,  but  you  have  seen  some  of  them,"  Jennie  re- 
minded   him.        "The    Dalrymples    and    the    Mac- 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  15 

Lemores,  for  instance.  T  thought  you  admired 
Anice  Dalrymple  when  you  went  there  with  Henry." 

"She  seemed  to  be  a  very  nice  young  lady,"  he 
said,  non-committingly,  recalling  with  lack  of  interest 
the  vision  of  the  dark-eyed  lassie  at  the  Dalrymple 
homestead,  a  few  miles  eastward  of  the  camp.  "But 
are  there  no  social  features  in  the  lives  of  these 
Gaelics?"  he  persisted. 

Jennie  rested  her  explorative  eyes  on  the  lunar- 
lighted  forest  horizoning  her  temporary  home,  ar- 
ranging facts  in  her  mind,  that  she  might  reply  to 
his  insistence  intelligently.  Thoroughly  domestic, 
she  had  not  sought  the  social  element  in  her  few 
quiet  neighbors  whose  habits  and  environment  held 
foreign  touches  which  impressed  her  with  their  un- 
familiarity.  Whenever  she  had  entered  their  homes, 
the  solitude  of  the  forest  had  been  dispelled  by  the 
vestal  flame  burning  upon  the  altars  of  their  Lares 
and  Penrjates.  Never  had  she  known  more  intense, 
methodical  life,  more  careful  detail  and  interest 
manifested  in  the  home  circle. 

Each  home  was  a  little  world  of  its  own  con- 
trivance, and  self-supporting  in  comfort,  neatness, 
plenteousness,  and  beauty  of  adornment,  they  had 
seemed  complete  and  independent.  She  had  in- 
variably felt  that  she  was  in  the  presence  of  a  pas- 
toral civilization  so  ancient  and  finished,  her  own 
past  appeared  crude  and  raw  and  pioneer.  But  the 
social  conditions  viewed  from  the  standpoint  of  a 
society  veteran  such  as  she  knew  Edwin  to  be  was 
hard  to  classify  and  select.  She  had  accepted  people 
as  she  found  them,  sometimes  interested  with  their 


16  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

modes  and  customs,  but  seeking  for  no  more  than 
they  had  given  casually  and  spontaneously. 

With  young  people  there  might  be  phases  of 
society  she  was  not  aware  of.  She  laughed  outright 
when,  suddenly,  Edwin's  probing  interest  reminded 
her  of  an  amusing  episode  she  had  almost  forgotten. 
Humor  was  not  lacking  in  the  plump,  energetic  Mrs. 
Stephenson. 

"You  must  investigate  the  social  realm  person- 
ally, Edwin.  I  cannot  help  you ;  but  may  I  relate 
Simpson's  experience?"  she  asked,  laughing,  still  in 
teasing  humor. 

"Well,  what  of  Simpson?"  he  acquiesced,  re- 
signedly. Simpson  was  the  cook  and  caterer  of  the 
camp,  assisted  by  his  wife,  Nancy.  He  was  in- 
tensely black  and  recently  married. 

"Simpson's  experience,  socially,  was  ludicrously 
disastrous,"  Jennie  declared,  mischievously.  "When 
we  first  came  out  here,  he  soon  became  lonesome 
and  restless,  and  sought  acquaintance  among  his 
color.  He  visited  a  family  who  works  for  Duncan 
MacLemore,  over  on  Pink  Eye  Creek.  His  sole 
leisure  time  was  Sabbath  afternoons,  when  I  under- 
took the  supper  to  give  him  an  outing,  and  it  was  at 
those  times  he  visited  the  daughters  of  the  house  of 
Julius. 

"Julius  had  always  lived  among  the  Scotch,  and 
according  to  Simpson's  version,  'out-Scotched  the 
Scots'  in  adherence  to  their  customs  and  heed  to  the 
mandates  of  their  church.  He  strenuously  objected 
to  his  daughters  receiving  frivolous  company  on  the 
Sabbath  day ;  hence  Simpson  proved  to  be  a  thorn  in 
the  old  patriarch's  sensitive  prejudices. 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  17 

"Simpson  primped  laboriously  and  disappeared 
for  several  consecutive  Sabbaths ;  and  then  suddenly 
he  remained  at  home  and  relieved  me  of  all  care 
about  the  evening  meal.  He  was  so  solemn  and 
sulky  I  knew  he  had  been  mortally  offended,  and 
finally  he  confessed  to  me  the  story  of  his  venture. 
It  was  rich  to  hear  him  express  his  great  indignation. 

"Julius  had  catechised  him  mercilessly,  'from  de 
book  itself,'  making  him  tell  who  made  him  and  who 
God  was,  and  who  was  Abraham,  and  every  one  of 
the  prophets ;  and  when  he  had  answered  'every  one 
of  dem  fool  quistions'  to  the  very  best  of  his  'solemn 
ability,'  Julius  had  insinuated  that  he  was  wickedly 
ignorant  and  an  erring  non-conformist. 

"Simpson  said  when  he  called  him  that  word,  'his 
dander  riz,'  and  but  'for  de  presence  of  de  ladies  he 
would  have  mashed  his  mouth,  shore  as  ye're  born.' 
He  had  carried  his  banjo  once,  and  Julius  had  for- 
bidden his  entering  'eben  de  yard  wiv  it,'  so  he  had 
hidden  it  in  the  woods  while  he  was  visiting,  and 
the  hogs  found  and  demolished  it.  Julius  had  made 
the  girls  read  chapters  from  the  Bible  out  loud,  and 
Simpson  declared  'It  was  wusser  dan  awful.'  They 
couldn't  read  much,  and  had  to  spell  most  of  the 
words  before  they  pronounced  them ;  and  seldom 
could  'nounce  dem'  after  they  had  tediously  spelled 
them.  He  had  borne  his  many  trials  heroically  until 
Julius  got  to  praying  for  him,  right  there  'afore  de 
gals,'  talking  about  his  greasing  his  hair  and  wearing 
a  'white  wescot'  to  lead  astray  silly  women  who 
wouldn't  know  Satan  if  'they  met  him  in  the  road.' 
It  was  then  he  gave  up  the  quest  for  society,  and 


18  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

finally  he  went  back  home  and  married  Nancy," 
Jennie  concluded,  abruptly. 

"But  the  point  of  the  story?"  Edwin  reminded 
her. 

"I  had  forgotten  that  I  was  illustrating.  Julius 
was,  presumably,  copying  from  the  white  people,  in 
his  Puritanical  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  so  they 
may  be  very  strict  and  sedate  even  in  their  pleasures 
and  amusements,  these  Scotch  Presbyterians.  They 
seem  to  content  themselves  with  books  and  their 
duties ;  and  they  are  very  intellectual,  generally,  and 
I  think  that  accounts  for  their  superior  home  life 
even  in  the  most  remote  neighborhoods. 

"By  the  way,  Edwin,  did  you  see  Ruth  MacKenzie 
when  you  fetched  the  children  from  school,  and  is 
she  not  pretty?"  she  asked,  with  a  swift  change  of 
subject. 

His  heart  gave  a  fainting  leap.  He  lifted  the 
cigar  from  his  lips  and  drew  an  uncertain  breath 
before  he  replied  with  unusual  constraint.  What 
he  had  so  desired  had  come  at  last  to  find  him  un- 
prepared for  its  reception. 

"No,  not  pretty"  he  said,  tritely,  as  his  heart 
leaped  free  with  an  unfamiliar  surge  that  sent  hot 
blood  coursing  his  veins. 

"I  think  she  is  extremely  beautiful,"  Jennie  con- 
tended, earnestly.  "And  she  is  but  a  child  in  years 
and  experience.  They  are  such  splendid  people, 
those  MacKenzies.  You  should  see  Kissic-Dale, 
Edwin !  The  children  and  I  spent  a  whole  day  there 
in  the  autumn.  It  is  like  a  painting,  an  artist's  ideal, 
I  mean.  Ruth  gave  Lula  a  birthday  dinner.  You 
would  have  thought  it  a  wedding  feast,  but  it  was 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  19 

for  the  pleasure  of  my  baby  daughter.  They  have 
shown  me  many  favors,  although  I  am  such  a  dis- 
tance from  them.  Kissic-Dale  is  such  a  lovely  old 
place,  I  am  terribly  homesick  after  seeing  its  beauty 
and  comforts  and  then  coming  back  here  to  my 
shack  in  the  woods ;  and  beyond  there,  still  farther 
west,  is  their  church.  They  call  it  'the  kirk.'  You 
should  go  there  some  time  and  have  a  peep  at  the 
natives  who  attend  from  a  circuit  of  many  miles." 

"Jennie,"  he  said,  aggrievedly,  "it  is  strange  you 
never  mentioned  the  MacKenzies  to  me  until  now. 
You  have  spoken  often  about  the  Dalrymples  and 
others,  though.  Why,  the  man  who  teaches  the 
school  is  the  finest  kind  of  a  fellow.  I  knew  he  was 
a  thoroughbred  college  man  the  moment  I  saw  him." 

"But  he  is  not  a  MacKenzie,  nor  any  relation  to 
them.  He  is  a  MacKethan,  and  Ruth's  tutor.  The 
school  is  a  side  issue ;  teaching  Ruth  his  main  busi- 
ness. Her  aunt  so  dreads  sending  her  to  college, 
which  would  be  much  less  expensive.  Ruth  is  an 
orphan  and  the  sole  heir  to  Kissic-Dale,  and  the 
MacKenzies  have  always  been  wealthy,  as  wealth  is 
counted  in  this  country;  also  proud  and  superior- 
minded,  so  the  Dalrymples  have  informed  me.  They 
are,  as  you  know,  my  nearest  neighbors." 

Thus  Jennie  discussed  the  MacKenzies,  and  then 
changed  to  other  subjects,  any  topic  that  presented 
itself  to  her  active  mind.  Edwin's  mere  presence 
was  an  inspiration  which  excited  to  an  overflow  the 
ideas  barred  into  thought  by  the  repression  of  her 
lonely  days.  Was  he  not  a  part  of  the  world  she 
had  left  when  she  had  followed  Henry  in  his  quest 
for  the  isle  of  "Fortuna,"  that  they  might  provide 


20  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

more  liberally  for  the  dear  children,  three  of  whom 
held  in  the  thrall  of  ''study  hour,"  were  grouped 
around  a  lamp-lighted  table  beyond  the  open  door- 
way, through  which  she  kept  strict  oversight  upon 
their  devotion  to  their  books.  The  other  child,  her 
only  son.  slept  supinely  in  her  arms.  That  Edwin 
seldom  spoke  did  not  discourage  her  loquacity ;  a 
good  listener  is,  at  times,  the  best  of  company ;  but 
finally  she  paused  in  the  midst  of  a  flow  of  words  to 
exclaim  with  some  excitement:  "I  am  sure  I  smell 
violets,  Edwin !  Again  and  again  the  fragrance  of 
home  violets,  the  dear,  little,  prim  violets,  which 
seem  to  dissolve  in  an  odoriferous  mist  of  perfume, 
has  swept  my  nostrils !"  She  sniffed  audibly  and 
experimentally.  "I  do  inhale  the  scent  of  violets," 
she  declared  with  conviction. 

Edwin  arose  and  abruptly  excusing  his  departure 
with  some  murmured  plea  of  business,  left  her  to 
wonder  vainly  over  the  scent  of  violets,  alone  and 
unenlightened. 

In  his  shanty  he  turned  up  the  light  and  remorse- 
fully searched  his  pockets.  When  he  had  arrived 
with  the  children,  a  wearied  teamster  had  also  driven 
into  the  camp,  bringing  supplies  and  the  mail  from 
the  distant  railroad  station.  He  had  then  received 
several  letters  and  promptly  forgotten  them ;  but  at 
the  time  he  had  scanned  their  superscriptions.  While 
looking  at  one.  the  odor  of  violets  had  been  wafted 
from  the  square  white  envelope,  and  he  had  re- 
flected that  "Maude  has  written  at  last,"  and  had 
sent  him  a  floral  greeting. 

By  the  light  of  his  lamp  he  selected  it  from  others 
and  broke  the  seal  to  extract  the  closely  written 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  21 

pages  of  fashionable  stationery.  A  tiny  bouquet  of 
violets,  pressed  flat,  was  disclosed,  and  a  delicious 
fragrance  still  clung  to  their  bruised  and  perishing 
petals.  His  interest  was  aroused  despite  the  neglect 
he  had  accorded  the  missive,  and  he  sat  down  to 
peruse  the  letter,  an  expectant  flush  upon  his 
features ;  but  his  interest  soon  waned  as  he  passed 
from  page  to  page  of  the  gilt-edged  stationery.  The 
last  one  was  glanced  over  absently,  and  replacing 
the  violets,  he  folded  them  in  with  the  written  mes- 
sage, then  hid  them  away  in  the  depth  of  his  trunk. 

Seated  again,  he  stared  unblinkingly  at  the  glow- 
ing blaze  of  the  lamp-wick,  stared  unseeing,  until  he 
knew  its  incandescence  had  blinded  him.  He  lowered 
the  flame  and  continued  his  revery,  which  was  alter- 
nately serious  and  gloomy  and  anon  was  radiant  in 
a  glow  of  new-born  ecstacy. 

The  walls  of  rough,  unplaned  lumber  from  a  saw- 
mill run  by  the  water  of  Pink  Eye  Creek  faded  from 
his  vision ;  and  he  lived  over  and  over,  incessantly, 
the  sweet  influence  of  the  Spring-time  forest  and  its 
intense  climax  just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  below 
the  pine-fringed  western  horizon.  He  longed  fer- 
vently for  the  morrow  to  dawn,  for  all  other  mor- 
rows allotted  to  his  providential  span  of  life. 

From  the  elating  summit  of  undreampt-of  hap- 
piness, he  slipped  at  intervals  into  the  abyss  of  his 
heedless  past  which  confronted  him  as  an  accusatory 
scroll.  In  those  depressing  intervals  he  would 
glance  remorsefully  at  the  trunk  where  he  had 
placed  the  letter  and  violets,  whose  message  came  a 
few  hours  too  late  to  meet  the  welcome  they  were 
so  confident  of  receiving.     Helpless  in  mute  sur- 


22  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

render,  he  fell  back  into  his  chair  and  buried  his 
face  in  the  curve  of  his  arms  as  they  lay  folded 
upon  the  table.  There,  hidden  away  from  all  ob- 
jective influence,  secure  from  the  rebuking  incense 
of  the  peiishing  violets,  he  lapsed  into  a  dreaming 
realm  embodying  Spring's  golden  promise  and  the 
solemnity  of  the  forest,  the  charm  of  the  flaming 
jessamine,  the  dainty  arbutus  and  a  fair,  slender  girl 
with  a  crown  of  golden  hair,  and  eyes  dark,  with  a 
spiritual  beauty  he  had  never  discovered  elsewhere; 
neither  such  transcendental  purity  and  sweetness 
of  expression.  Rapturously,  he  whispered  to  his 
palpitant  heart,  as  it  clamored  for  an  endless  repeti- 
tion of  the  source  of  its  enchantment,  "Ruth,  Ruth 
MacKenzie,"  and  the  letter  and  the  violets  were  for- 
gotten as  he  dreamed,  and  the  pines  whispered  and 
sighed  unheeded,  out  in  the  forest. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Fancy's    Realm — Sunset    and    Holly    Creek- 
Donald's  Behavior. 

"Whither  the  path  leads, 

Dear,  little  matter; 
Amber  of  spring  hole. 

Waterfall's  chatter; 
You  are  my  goal,  dear, 

Wildwood  thing." 


— Selected. 


"Her  fancy  roved  as  mystic  foam, 
Kissing  shores  of  golden  sand." 


Ruth  and  Jamie  walked  circumspectly  and  with 
due  regard  for  appearances  until  they  were  beyond 
the  vicinity  of  the  highway ;  then  Ruth  smiled  a 
merry  challenge.  "Now,  Jamie!"  she  cried,  and  the 
restraint  of  the  schoolroom  fell  from  her  manner, 
revealing  a  girlish  love  of  fun  and  frolic. 

Jamie  responded  gleefully,  and  led  in  a  spirited 
race  which  lasted  until  their  breath  was  well-nigh 
spent,  and  the  oppression  of  the  day's  restrictions 
was  dissipated  in  that  wild  rush  of  action.  Neither 
had  ever,  until  that  scholastic  year,  known  the  re- 
straint and  discipline  of  a  schoolroom ;  yet  no  pupils 
could  have  proven  more  docile  and  respectful  to  its 
regime.  Jamie  was  Sandy's  first-born,  whom  Jean 
had  named  for  her  lamented  brother,  and  he  was 


24  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

cherished  equally  under  the  broad  roof  of  Kissic- 
Dale  and  in  the  flower-embowered  cottage  of  his 
parents. 

Ruth  and  Jamie  paused  at  a  certain  point  on  the 
roadway,  and  Ruth,  warm  and  flushed  from  the 
speed  of  the  race,  took  off  her  jacket  and  threw  it, 
with  her  white  sunbonnet  and  her  book-satchel,  upon 
the  stout  limbs  of  a  scrub  oak;  Jamie  added  his  cap 
and  satchel  to  the  weight  of  the  short  branches,  and, 
unhampered,  they  ran  into  the  woods,  their  hastening 
feet  slipping  and  sliding  over  the  sleek  carpet  of 
brown  pine  needles,  covering,  treacherously,  the 
white  sand  of  the  forest  soil,  their  discarded  belong- 
ings left  to  signal  Donald  and  Sandy's  two  younger 
children,  whom  they  had  so  far  out-distanced.  The 
goal  of  their  journey  into  the  woods  was  a  bit  of 
swamp,  far  down  the  declivity  which  sloped  from 
the  road  on  the  plateau  of  the  hills.  Jean  loved  the 
delicate  wild  growths  of  fern  and  flower,  and  they 
were  to  be  found  there  in  marvellous  profusion  and 
perfection ;  the  beloved  arbutus,  the  alluring  and 
brilliant  jessamine,  and  the  first  un foldings  of  ten- 
derest  fern-fronds ;  a  treasure-trove  of  Spring's 
offerings  in  the  sand-paved  pinelands. 

With  laden  hands  they  returned  to  the  road  and 
for.nd  Donald  and  the  children  waiting  patiently. 
Donald  smiled  indulgently  when  Ruth  stood  in  the 
road,  flushed  and  panting;  he  had  encouraged,  at 
all  seasons,  athletic  exercise  for  his  pupils,  and 
Ruth's  childish  love  of  fun  and  frolics.  She  was 
arranging,  compactly,  the  mass  of  vine  and  fern  and 
blossoms  in  her  unwieldy  bouquet,  trying  to  so  re- 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  25 

duce  its  proportions  that  her  hands  would  be  free  to 
carry  her  other  burdens  conveniently. 

"You  must  wear  your  jacket,  Ruth,"  Donald  said 
firmly,  as  he  lifted  the  garment  from  the  scrub-oak 
to  assist  her  in  putting  it  on. 

"Must  I?  Oh,  Donald,  I  am  so  warm!"  she  said, 
persuasively.  She  lifted  her  glance  in  airy  appeal, 
a  smile  wreathing  her  lips  with  inconsequential  mirth 
and  playful  defiance.  Her  mood  was  spontaneous, 
and  as  artless  as  the  joyous  spontaneity  of  a  normal 
child.  It  was  such  an  overflowing  delight  just  to 
live  in  such  buoyant  health  and  in  such  a  bright, 
perfect  world,  she  could  embalm  each  bright-winged 
moment  in  bubbling  mirth  and  joyous  deportment. 
The  slanting  sun  flung  prismatic  bars  of  amber  light 
athwart  her  rosy  countenance,  and  intensified  the 
dark  depths  of  her  soulful  eyes,  sparkling  then,  with 
the  eli.xir  of  youth  and  burnished  the  gold  of  her 
gleaming  hair. 

As  she  stood  in  her  white,  clinging  dress,  the  em- 
bodiment of  Springtime  beauty,  joy  and  hope, 
Donald  paused,  and  with  swift  scrutiny  took  note  of 
her  ineffable  charm  and  rare,  youthful  loveliness ; 
not  from  a  personal  standpoint ;  that  had  been  placed 
immovably  long  ere  then ;  but  from  the  viewpoint 
that  had  blazed  its  signals  in  the  eloquent  eyes  of  the 
handsome  young  stranger  with  whom  he  had  parted 
a  few  moments  hence ;  and  the  wondering  surprise, 
the  intense  admiration,  he  had  seen  in  the  stranger's 
eager  survey  was  dominant  in  his  newly  evolved 
estimate  of  Ruth's  fair  personality.  In  the  glance 
she  had  given  to  his  countenance,  she  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  an  unfamiliar  mood,  mirrored  in  his  ex- 


26  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

pression ;  and  instantly,  not  fathoming  its  meaning 
or  divining  its  portent,  she  was  humble  and  peni- 
tent, yea,  abjectly  obedient  in  her  easily  evoked  con- 
trition. 

"Excuse  me,  Donald !  Certainly,  I  will  wear  it  if 
you  think  it  most  prudent  to  do  so,  if  I  melt."  She 
supplemented  the  concluding  words  as  a  smiling  sop 
to  her  vanquished  independence. 

She  quietly  arranged  her  bouquet  so  that  the 
coarser  growths  could  shield  the  tender  ferns ;  they 
were  so  easily  bruised,  and  Jean  loved  them  most 
for  the  very  qualities  which  rendered  them  so  easily 
wounded  and  perishable.  Donald  held  her  satin- 
lined  jacket,  with  its  bordering  of  rose-tinted 
arbutus  blossoms,  done  in  silk  floss,  waiting  to  assist 
in  its  donning;  and  while  she  arranged  her  flowers, 
her  mind  wholly  upon  their  adjustment,  his  heart 
acknowledged  afresh  his  pristine  conviction,  that 
the  world  held  no  fairer,  radiant  maiden. 

A  solitaire  diamond  glistened  upon  her  slender 
hand ;  at  the  tips  of  her  pretty  ears  there  sparkled, 
like  impaled  dewdrops  throbbing  their  irridescent 
hearts,  tiny  gems  of  the  first  water,  giving  a  note  of 
richness  and  elegance  to  her  simple  school  dress  of 
snow  white  wool,  enhanced  by  plain  bands  piped 
with  white  silk  cordings.  He  knew  the  story  of  the 
costly  jewels,  and  he  knew  also  that  they  were  not 
worn  in  a  spirit  of  vanity,  but  with  filial  reverence 
and  devotion  to  her  parents ;  that  on  her  sixteenth 
birthday  she  had  received  them  as  a  young  novice 
receives  her  veil  and  vows,  or  as  a  devotee  the  con- 
firmation of  the  Christian  rites,  for  Jean  had  then 
informed  her  that  they  had  been  gifts  from  Jamie 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  27 

to  her  mother,  who  had  worn  them  constantly  until 
they  were  taken  from  her  after  she  had  passed  from 
earthly  things,  and  preserved  as  a  most  precious 
heritage  for  her  daughter. 

"Thank  you,  Donald,"  she  said,  with  her  caress- 
ing, brogue-tinged  voice,  after  she  had  assumed  the 
garment.    "You  are  so  kind." 

She  flashed  such  a  sweet,  grateful  smile  into  his 
brooding  eyes,  the  last  vestige  of  color  forsook  his 
features.  He  bit  his  lips  that  she  might  not  spy 
upon  his  tell-tale  flushings. 

"I  will  carry  your  satchel  and  bonnet,"  he  said 
curtly,  dismissing  her. 

"\^ery  well,"  she  acquiesced  obediently,  as  she 
swung  into  step  with  Jamie,  his  younger  brother  and 
sister,  and  hurried  homeward. 

The  pleasure,  diurnally  renewed,  of  returning  to 
Jean  and  the  scenes  she  loved  with  an  undivided 
aflfection,  quickened  her  footsteps  and  elated  her 
mind  with  sweet  anticipation.  So  many  joys  awaited 
her  in  the  fragrant  twilight  hours,  she  invariably 
had  a  race  with  the  moments  of  time  that  sweep 
affrightedly  in  advance  of  great  ebon-winged  Night. 
The  joy  of  greeting  Jean,  who  habitually  awaited 
her  at  the  gate  which  gave  ingress  to  the  lawn,  the 
meeting  with  ]\Iary  Graham  and  Dicey.  Iphogenia 
and  Ezeke ;  the  caresses  due  to  Leo,  the  great  house 
dog,  the  petting  of  the  kittens,  the  visit  to  the  fowls, 
who  retired  strictly  at  sunset  but  kept  their  heads 
from  under  their  wings  to  give  her  a  welcome  home ; 
the  rush  to  the  dove-cote,  where  innumerable 
pigeons  were  fretting  for  the  grain  she  would  feed 
them  in  liberal  handfuls;  the  dash  to  the  sheep-fold 


28  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

to  behold,  ecstatically,  the  frisky  lambs,  and  the 
pause  at  the  barnyard,  to  glimpse  at  the  horses  and 
the  cattle  then  gathered  in  from  the  fields  and  pas- 
tures ;  the  brief  flitting  over  the  lawn,  where  Spring's 
own  children  were  blooming,  and  a  peep  at  the  rose 
garden,  where  standards  were  bursting  into  full 
blossom ;  and  finally,  the  family  group  around  the 
supper  table,  which  invariably  presented  a  festive 
appearance  and  an  array  of  appetizing  dishes  that 
atoned  for  the  cold  lunch  she  and  Donald  partook 
of  at  noon.  It  was  then  Dicey  imprisoned  the  kittens 
in  the  kitchen  and  Leo  in  his  kennel,  force  alone 
keeping  them  from  her  in  the  first  hour  of  her  re- 
turn, and  thus  Dicey  had  learned  to  regulate  their 
behavior. 

Donald  lagged  in  their  rear  as  they  tripped  home- 
ward, an  unusual  happening,  yet  unnoted  by  Ruth 
and  the  children,  who  were  as  eager  for  their  home 
and  mother  as  Ruth  was  for  Jean  and  Kissic-Dale. 
Indeed,  the  children  forsook  her  at  the  great  gate 
which  barred  the  fields  from  the  forest,  and  ran 
swiftly  down  the  road  over  the  long  slope  to  the 
flat  lands  bordering  'Holly  Creek." 

When  Donald  came  through  the  gate,  left  ajar 
against  his  coming,  Ruth  walked  slowly,  idly,  but 
a  short  distance  beyond  the  entrance.  He  shut  the 
gate,  hesitated  a  moment,  then  with  a  firm  step  over- 
took and  passed  her  by,  because  he  knew  that  his 
company  would  be  an  intrusion.  She  was  not  aware 
of  any  mundane  object  or  interest. 

He  had  learned  to  divine  her  moods  and  the 
vagaries  of  her  mind,  and  a  glimpse  of  her  coun- 
tenance informed  him  that  she  was  in  a  mood  of 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  29 

spiritual  meditation,  and  was  insensible  to  Kissic- 
Dale  in  its  fair  plenteousness  of  broad,  green  fields 
of  young,  sprouting  grain  and  fields  of  freshy 
turned  dark  mold,  sown  in  corn  and  cotton,  of  wind- 
ing brook,  alder  and  willow-fringed ;  of  gaily  be- 
decked, blossoming  orchards ;  of  groves  and  wood- 
lands clothed  in  an  emerald  mist  of  budding  foliage 
and  the  white-walled  mansion  looming  against  a 
spectacular  background  of  purpling  hills  and  a  gold 
and  amethystian  sunset.  Ruth,  he  knew,  was  not 
entranced  with  the  aspect  of  the  smiling  valley ;  with 
rapt  expression  and  speculative  eyes,  her  glance 
roved  the  celestial  display  of  tinted,  vaporous  hues, 
searching  for  a  soulful  region  beyond  the  gates  of 
sunset,  set  ajar  briefly  and  alluringly.  She  smiled 
absently  as  he  forged  ahead,  his  eyes  upon  the  pros- 
perous fields  and  signs  of  industry. 

On  the  bridge  spanning  Holly  Creek  he  paused 
and  awaited  her  tardy  approach.  He  knew  she 
would  tarry  there,  as  she  had  done  invariably  on  the 
bright  afternoon  when  they  walked  from  school. 
He,  with  his  mind  set  valiantly  on  practical  things 
and  the  practical  wonder  of  Nature,  often  found  a 
soothing  charm  in  the  spot  swept  by  the  broad  flow 
of  water.  The  place  presented  as  much  the  handi- 
work of  man  as  the  tireless  thrift  of  Nature.  Aged 
and  graceful  weeping  willows,  planted  by  hands  long 
folded  in  the  last  sleep,  diooped  their  swaying 
branches  at  either  approach  to  the  wide,  bannistered 
bridge  finished  with  fanciful  conceits  in  architectural 
designs ;  the  wild  willows  and  other  growths,  with 
an  affinity  for  water,  were  trimmed  and  left  to  grow 
so  as  to  clothe  the  shelving  banks  artistically.    Tall 


30  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

aspen  trees,  with  spire-like  trimness,  poised  as  sen- 
tinels of  the  stream,  and  as  statuesque ;  yet  he 
stood  with  averted  gaze  that  embraced  the  brow  of 
a  distant  hillside,  showing  crude  and  bare  from  a 
recent  gashing  with  a  deep-set  plough.  He  had  but 
a  few  moments  to  await  Ruth's  loitering  footsteps. 
She  came  forward  anticipatingly,  her  face  alight 
and  no  longer  dreamy,  the  tinted  glamor  of  the  sun- 
set intensifying  the  pure  charm  of  her  loveliness 
with  its  transforming  radiance. 

He  smiled  a  casual  welcome  and  in  silence  leaned 
upon  the  flat  upper  railing  of  the  bridge,  and 
focused  his  interest,  apparently,  on  the  fields  of 
grain  in  an  opposite  direction  from  the  ploughed 
land.  Ruth  tarried  also,  and  leaned  against  the 
railing  idly.  With  fanciful  interest  she  searched 
the  reflection  of  the  sunset  sky  where  it  lay  mirrored 
in  the  rippling  water ;  reproductions  of  the  celestial 
world  rainbowing  the  horizon  above  the  valley. 

She  gazed  silently,  too,  but  with  keen,  unalloyed 
pleasure,  and  a  rioting  imagination  which  seduced 
her  presently  into  a  reverie,  transporting  her  mind 
into  a  realm  of  mysticism  far  removed  from  com- 
monplace and  material  environment.  It  was  a  nether 
world ;  her  feet  trod  its  firmament.  To  its  citizen 
sprites  she  was  perhaps,  a  goddess  enthroned  in  their 
sky.  Her  sensations  were  so  real,  she  experienced 
a  physical  awe  of  the  startling  height  obtained  in 
giving  espionage  to  a  world  spread  so  far  below  and 
distant  in  ethereal  spaces.  The  stream  bore  upon  its 
gliding  surface  a  few  blossoms  of  yellow  jessamine 
tossed  from  some  swaying  branch,  perhaps,  near  its 
source  in  the  pine-clad  hills ;  and  they  entered  into 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  31 

her  vision  as  golden  argosies  cruising  in  resplendent 
waters,  iinswept  by  the  gales  which  lash  terra  firma 
craft. 

Donald  came  to  her  side  and  with  fleeting  glance 
noted  the  scene  which  had  so  enthralled  her  fancy. 
He  sighed,  and  with  deliberate  trite  intonation,  said : 
"How  fast  the  grain  is  growing!  There  is  quite  a 
change  since  yesterday.  Shall  we  be  going,  Ruth? 
See  the  twilight  is  being  heralded." 

She  withdrew  her  eyes  from  the  water  and  viewed 
him  with  the  aloofness  one  accords  the  stranger, 
Donald  was  so  alien  to  her  mood.  She  was  a  spirit 
of  the  ideal  regions  reflected  in  the  water,  the  sky 
above  and  below,  the  earth  annihilated ;  sweet 
breezes,  the  breath  of  infinity,  fanning  her  pulsing 
temples;  therefore,  she  did  not  comprehend  his  re- 
mark or  respond  to  his  observation. 

She  smiled  acquiescently  to  his  concluding  sugges- 
tion, although  she  did  not  grasp  his  meaning  until, 
with  a  covert  glance  at  her  hypnotized  expression,  he 
walked  on,  her  satchel  depending  from  his  arm,  her 
white  bonnet  held  by  one  long  streamer,  the  other 
trailing  its  fluttering  length  on  the  ground. 

When  he  had  gone  beyond  the  swaying  branches 
of  a  patriarchal  weeping  willow  at  the  west  end  of 
the  bridge  she  turned  for  a  last  impression  of  the 
water,  the  painted  bridge  and  the  panorama  of  the 
emerald  valley  nestling  so  snugly  between  the  sloping 
hills.  She  sighed  regretfully  as  she  cast  her  cling- 
ing fancies  from  her  mind  and  left  them  with  the 
scene  which  had  evoked  them  in  the  fertile  soil  of 
her  imagination ;  and,  once  more  a  common  mortal 


32  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

plodding  the  earthly  world,  she  followed  Donald  up 
the  incline  to  the  blossoming  realm  of  the  orchard. 

She  was  laughing  and  skipping  when  she  flitted  by 
him  at  a  point  where,  leaving  the  public  road,  the 
way  to  the  house  led  down  a  broad  lane  flanked  by 
graceful  cherry  trees  in  a  bridal  array  of  blossom. 
She  sped  lightly  and  swiftly  down  the  length  of  the 
lane;  and,  at  its  terminal,  threw  her  arms  around 
Jean,  who,  as  usual,  stood  by  the  gate  awaiting  her. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

EVENINGTIDE ThE      SoNGS      OF      THE      ClANS  — 

Donald's  Resolve. 

"Maxwelton's  braes  are  bonny. 

Where  early  falls  the  dew " 

"The  sun's  low  down  the  sky,  Lorena, 

The  frost  gleams  where  the  flowers  have  been " 


"Oh,  light  was  her  heart  ere  love's  witchery  came!" 

That  evening  was  the  customary  one  in  the  quiet 
household.  A  tray  of  violets  and  a  bowl  of  hyacinths 
graced  the  supper  table,  and  the  meal  was  a  season 
of  pleasure  as  usual. 

Twilight  fell  imperceptibly.  Shot  with  tender 
moonlight,  the  house  was  brilliantly  lighted.  Ruth 
spent  an  hour  at  the  piano,  practicing.  A  cheerful 
fire  blazed  on  the  sitting-room  hearth,  the  cat  dozed, 
Jean  read,  when  Ruth  came  from  the  parlor  and 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  33 

gathered  her  text  and  note  books  around  the  lamp 
on  her  study  table  and  waited  for  Donald,  who  was 
then  in  his  room  upstairs.  At  the  stroke  of  nine 
o'clock  he  came  into  the  room  and  helped  her  with 
her  lessons,  for  the  morrow's  recitations,  for  Ruth 
studied  indefatigably,  her  innate  love  of  knowledge 
strenuously  accentuated,  as  a  sop  to  the  Cerberus  of 
circumstances ;  thus  she  atoned  for  her  truancy  to 
college  life  and  paid  for  the  privilege  of  being 
happy  at  home  and  the  companion  of  Jean  in  her 
loneliness.  She  knew  each  study  finished  would  cur- 
tail that  much  her  inevitable  absence  in  the  future. 

For  nearly  an  hour  they  were  absorbed  in 
Homeric  translations  in  the  hieroglyphical  language 
of  the  classical  Greeks.  Then  Donald  suggested 
music  and  Jean  accompanied  him  to  the  parlor  while 
Ruth  continued  her  studies.  Jean's  stately  Sonatas 
nor  Donald's  piping  strains  on  the  flute,  embracing 
old  Scottish  airs  and  English  melodies,  did  not  dis- 
turb her.  She  had  heard  them  so  often  and  was 
so  familiar  with  every  note  of  their  music. 

Mary  Graham,  Jean's  housekeeper,  laid  aside  her 
knitting,  folded  her  hands  and  closed  her  eyes  in 
sentimental  attention  when  they  played  the  songs 
celebrating  the  exile  of  the  clans  to  the  pine-lands 
of  Carolina,  and  their  loyalty  to  the  cause  for  which 
they  suffered  so  severely. 

Donald  returned  to  his  apartments,  and  Jean 
played  on,  unattended,  for  her  own  amusement.  At 
last  she  began  to  sing  the  sentimental  songs  of  her 
own  youthful  days,  "Lorena"  and  "Annie  Laurie," 
"Marguerite"  and  "Robin  Adair,"  and  "Douglas." 

She  sang  simply  and  with  tender  pathos  at  times 


34  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

tremulously,  when  memory  smote  the  chord  of  some 
past  joy  or  sorrow ;  and  as  she  sang  she  was  vaguely 
sad  and  depressed ;  why  she  never  knew.  Intangible 
grief  touched  her  mood  persistently.  She  evoked 
dashing  strains,  striving  for  a  more  cheerful  feeling. 
Such  songs  as  "Douglas"  and  "Lorena"  seemed  to 
mingle  with  their  melodies  voices  so  long,  so  heart- 
breakingly  silent ;  so  she  played  "The  Campbells  Are 
Coming"  and  "Roslyn  Castle,"  and  the  whistling 
variations  of  "The  Mocking  Bird"  ere  she  paused 
with  the  intention  of  closing  the  instrument.  She 
hesitated,  sitting  quite  still  for  many  moments, 
gazing  introspectively,  with  unwinking  eyes ;  then 
she  sighed  deeply  and  her  fingers  caressed  the  key- 
board with  aimless  movements  until  they  glided 
mechanically  over  certain  notes  which  voiced  the  air 
of  "Araby's  Daughter." 

She  played  a  few  bars  repeatedly,  then  struck  a 
full  chorus  of  chords  and  sang  every  word  of  the 
ballad,  plaintively,  and  with  a  sympathy  which 
probed  an  unfamiliar  chamber  in  her  heart,  as  if 
she  was  personally  lamenting  the  fate  of  the  daugh- 
ter of  Araby. 


"Farewell,  farewell,  Araby's  daughter," 
Thus  warbled  a  Perl  beneath  the  dark  sea; 

"No  pearl  ever  lay  under  Oman's  green  water 
More  pure  in  its  shell  than  thy  spirit  in  thee." 

Oh,  fair  as  the  sea-flower  close  to  thee  growing! 
Oh,  light  was  thy  heart  ere  Love's  witchery  came! 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  35 

But  long  upon  Araby's  green  sunny  Highlands, 
Shall  maids  and  their  lovers  remember  the  doom 

Of  her,  who  lies  sleeping  beneath  the  pearl  islands. 
With  naught  but  the  sea-star  to  light  up  her  tomb. 

And  still,  when  the  merry  date  season  is  burning. 
And  calls  to  the  palm-groves  the  young  and  the  old; 

The  happiest  there  from  their  pastime  returning. 
At  sunset  shall  weep  when  thy  story  is  told. 

She  set  her  foot  firmly  upon  the  soft  pedal  and 
sang  the  refrain  again,  and  yet  again,  clinging 
morbidly  to  the  wailing  protest,  the  pathetic  melody. 
When  it  seemed  to  resolve  into  a  human  voice 
breathing  prophecy  she  shuddered  as  if  an  un- 
kind wind  had  smitten  her  form.  With  a  repulsing 
gesture  she  arose,  closed  the  piano  firmly  and  ar- 
ranged her  yellowing  music. 

The  fragrance  of  the  woodland  jessamine  per- 
vaded the  room  like  Satyr's  incense  in  a  grotto 
temple  as  she  passed  by  the  heavy,  marble-topped 
table  in  the  centre  of  the  room  and  caressed  with 
appreciative  touch  Ruth's  gift  of  fern  and  blossom. 
They  were  held  in  an  antiqtie  silver  vase,  a  loving 
cup,  the  gift  of  royalty  to  one  of  her  ancestors.  She 
sighed  again,  expressively,  as  she  took  mental  note 
of  a  coincident  just  then  presented  to  her  mind,  the 
oflFering  of  the  wee  lassie,  the  last  of  the  Mac- 
Kenzies,  reposing  in  the  gift  to  their  most  revered 
progenitor.  The  past  seemed  to  float  out  from  the 
blank  void  of  "long  ago"  and  mingle  its  shades  inter- 
wovenly  into  the  present ;  and  the  past  wore  shrouds 
and  the  habiliments  of  the  tomb.     It  was  uncanny 


36  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

to  be  in  its  presence,  alone  in  the  room,  with  the 
woodland  aroma  conjuring  it  into  an  almost  personal 
presence.  She  was  not  aware  that  two  pondering 
vigils  had  been  kept,  unknown  to  each  other,  yet 
each,  influenced  by  her  music,  knew  that  her  mood 
was  unusual  and  sad. 

She  left  the  room  in  a  quest  for  company  to  exer- 
cise gloomy  foreboding  which  she  felt  was  ground- 
less and  denoted  an  abnormal  condition  of  her 
nerves.  She  found  Mary  Graham  asleep  in  her 
chair  and  Ruth  absent  from  the  study  table.  She 
searched  vainly  until  she  explored  the  eastern 
veranda.  Moonlight  veiled  in  silvery  mist  lay  upon 
field  and  orchard ;  and  where  its  revealing  radiance 
fell  upon  palms  and  hothouse  products,  banking  the 
southern  entrance  to  the  veranda,  she  found  Ruth 
seated  by  a  column.  Jean  approached  over  a  floor 
checkered  with  shadows  and  white  lunar  rays,  and 
laid  her  hand  upon  Ruth's  drooping  shoulder. 

"Why  are  you  here,  bairnie?"  she  asked  playfully, 
to  hide  her  own  seriousness. 

"I  came  out  here  to  hear  you  sing,"  Ruth 
answered,  lifting  her  head  bravely  and  smiling, 
although  tears  bedewed  her  cheeks  and  sparkled 
upon  the  heavy  lashes  fringing  her  limpid  eyes. 
"You  are  sad  to-night.  Auntie,"  she  asserted  ten- 
derly. "I  have  never  heard  you  sing  just  that  way 
until  now.  Is  it  memories  troubling  you  ?  I  thought 
so.  You  must  have  so  many  sad  ones ;  memories  of 
Papa,  of  Archie,  and  all  your  dear  ones.  I  some- 
times wonder  at  your  optimism.  I  could  not  be  so 
strong,  I  am  sure,"  she  concluded  with  a  sigh,  the 
breath  of  a  deep  sympathy.      Jean  knew  then  why 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  37 

she  had  been  shedding  tears,  and  she  stroked  the 
bright  hair  of  her  bairnie  as  she  said,  gently  : 

"It  is  true  I  have  many  sad  and  sacred  memories, 
but  they  no  longer  make  me  deeply  sorrowful.  I 
have  become  resigned  and  am  hopefully  looking  to 
a  future  that  will  reunite  me  with  lost  loved  ones. 
When  I  sing  'Douglas,'  my  lover  husband,  always 
young  and  tenderly  devoted,  lives  again,  as  in  the 
happy  past,  and  every  detail  of  my  simple  life  has 
power  to  invoke  fond  recollections,  but  to-night  my 
mood  is  prophetic,  and  I  feel  strangely  afraid  and 
apprehensive.  I  had  an  involuntary  tremor,  as  the 
winking  of  an  eye  or  unconscious  sighing.  I  have 
chided  Dicey  often  for  referring  such  a  chill  to  an 
old  folk-lore  superstition  that  someone  was  treading 
the  soil  of  your  future  tomb. 

"But,"  Jean  proceeded,  as  Ruth  pondered  her 
words  silently,  "something  seemed  whispering  to  me, 
or  rather  suggesting,"  she  strove  for  ideas  to  express 
a  feeling  so  definite,  yet  at  the  same  time  so  elusive 
and  intangible,  "until — I — grew  really  anxious.  It 
seemed  to  say  distinctly:  'This  is  the  beginning  of 
the  end.'  " 

Puth  sprang  up  amazed  and  frightened.  She 
folded  her  slender  arms  around  Jean's  stately  form. 
"Auntie !"  she  cried,  "I  know  you  are  going  to  be 
ill !  I  have  never  known  you  to  be  this  way.  Your 
singing  impressed  me  as  strange  and  unusual.  I 
have  been  listening  with  deepest  sympathy." 

"I  have  frightened  you,"  jean  said,  "and  without 
cause,  bairnie,  for  I  am  quite  well  and  without 
anxiety  normally.  It  is  the  trait  of  my  race  to  be 
superstitious.    That,  in  some  psychological  manner, 


38  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

is  influencing  me.    I  have  felt  its  terrors  before  this 
time." 

"But  you  are  not  superstitious,"  Ruth  declared  in 
fond  defence.  "You  are  so  strong-minded,  so 
logical,  Auntie." 

"But  I  am  superstitious!"  Jean  asserted,  with 
solemn  conviction.  "And  I  have  no  strength  to  over- 
come the  weakness  or  misfortune,  if  it  is  either.  I 
also  believe  in  the  second  sight,  not  alone  inherently, 
but  experimentally.  When  Archie  died  in  that 
freezing  Northern  prison,  when  Paul  and  Daniel 
died  together  on  that  blood-drenched  battlefield  in 
Virginia,  when  death  came  with  compassionate 
haste  and  released  my  heart-broken  mother,  and  then 
my  father,  from  their  crushing  bereavements,  I  was 
warned  by  visions  of  their  fates;  but  I  was  over- 
wrought then  by  overwhelming  anxieties  and  be- 
lieved my  sensations  and  perceptions  the  result  of 
nervous  worry;  but  now  my  life  was  never  more 
peaceful  and  my  health  is  almost  perfect." 

Ruth's  arms  had  tightened  spasmodically  as  Jean 
referred  to  her  sad  past ;  now  her  head  drooped  upon 
Jean's  shoulder.  "Poor  Auntie!"  she  sighed  in  in- 
expressible sympathy. 

"I  am  sorry  to  distress  you.  I  would  give  my  life 
freely  to  ensure  you  unbroken  happiness,  and  to- 
night, I  am  therefore  unreasonably,  vaguely  afraid, 
because — I  feel — that  some  indefinite  danger 
threatens  you,  bairnie,"  Jean  faltered,  uncertainly. 

"Me!  Oh,  Auntie!  How  you  frightened  me! 
But  now  I  am  not  afraid,  for  I  am  all  right.  I  was 
fearing  for  you,  but  I  am  in  splendid  health  and 
quite  happy  in  every  way.     'And  not  a  wave  of 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  39 

trouble  rolls  across  my  peaceful  breast,'  "  she  quoted 
brightly  and  without  flippancy.  "And  I  am  so  much 
happier  than  formerly ;  I  was  such  a  fearful,  morbid 
child,  was  I  not,  dearie?  But  now  I  see  things  more 
clearly,  and  I  have  you,  the  dear  home,  dear  ones  to 
love,  and  none  to  hate  me ;  what  more  could  I  desire, 
pray  tell  me." 

"You  are  right,  bairnie,"  Jean  admitted  hopefully, 
for  self-comfort,  "and  I  am  a  silly  old  woman.  Let 
us  forget  my  strange  fancies.  I  should  have  never 
entertained  them  for  a  moment.  Let  us  admire  the 
charming  night.  I  did  not  realize  the  attractions 
abroad,  or  I  would  have  come  out  earlier  and  not 
have  sung  myself  into  such  a  state  of  morbidness." 

It  was,  indeed,  a  scene  of  beauty  which  environed 
the  old  homestead.  Holly  Creek  shone  as  a  stream 
of  molten  silver,  as  it  wound  its  way  through  slum- 
berous fields ;  mist  walled  in  the  valley ;  the  apple 
trees  robed  in  dainty  blossoms,  stood  as  maids  of 
honor  attending  the  regal  queen  of  night. 

"I  do  so  love  the  moonlight,"  Jean  remarked,  in- 
consequentially. "What  is  there  in  the  beautiful 
world  that  I  do  not  love,  I  wonder?"  Ruth  re- 
sponded gaily ;  but  her  tones  were  tremulous  and 
her  mirth  an  effort. 

"Especially  Springtime,"  Jean  commented,  analyt- 
ically. "The  robins  have  come  again.  Ruth,"  she 
continued,  with  assumed  cheerfulness,  "and  so  have 
the  swallows,  and  the  little  housewifely  wrens  are 
building  their  nests  beneath  the  roof.  Soon,  the 
mocking-birds  will  come  to  the  magnolias,  and  then 
we  shall  have  bird  music,  indeed." 

"I  shall  be  glad  if  our  old  acquaintance  returns; 


40  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

the  one  who  so  fooled  Dicey.  You  remember,  do 
you  not,  Auntie  ?"  Ruth  said,  reminiscently,  and  she 
laughed  merrily  over  the  memory;  their  depression 
could  not  last,  a  shadow  without  substance.  That 
shrewd  bird  had  very  much  interested  them  the  pre- 
vious summer.  He  had  nested  in  the  tall  aspen  tree 
and  indulged  in  most  perfect  mimicry.  Ruth  re- 
called gleefully  how  he  had  worried  Dicey  by  cry- 
ing "Whip-poor-will"  in  the  vegetable  garden.  Traps 
had  been  set  for  the  supposed  marauder,  until  one 
day  as  Dicey  was  resetting  them  and  muttering 
about  the  wariness  of  the  thief,  who  seemed  to  be 
endowed  with  a  miraculous  art  in  diasppearing,  the 
mocking-bird  had  poised  defiantly  upon  the  gate- 
post and  trilled  the  whip-poor-will's  cry,  shrilly  and 
derisively.  Dicey  had  thrown  the  trap  at  him  in 
sudden  fury  at  the  trick  which  he  had  played  apon 
her  credulity. 

"If  he  comes,  we  will  have  the  bird-world  of 
song,"  Ruth  declared  admiringly,  in  happy  remem- 
brance of  the  facile  songster.  And  thus  they  con- 
versed for  some  time  until  Ruth's  infectious  gayety 
had  cheered  Jean's  heart  somewhat.  Reluctantly, 
finally,  they  left  the  veranda,  where  ethereal  beauty 
brooded  so  ineffably,  and  retired,  Ruth  imparting  a 
last  touch  of  comfort  in  her  loving  good  night. 

But  when  the  lights  were  extinguished  and  the 
solitude  of  the  nearby  forest  crept  into  the  slumber- 
ing domain  of  Kissic-Dale,  and  all  opposing  influ- 
ence was  withdrawn,  the  sadness  came  again  into 
Jean's  heart,  stealthily,  persistently,  and  the  same 
whisper  seemed  to  float  and  sigh  around  her,  "This 
is  the  beginning  of  the  end."     She  warded  off  the 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  41 

sensation  or  the  fancy,  or  the  reality,  as  one  re- 
pulses and  shrinks  from  a  blow  aimed  at  the  vitals. 
Once  she  awoke  in  a  condition  resembling  night- 
mare, panting  for  breath,  her  veins  tingling  with  an 
irregular  rush  of  blood.  She  did  not  know  if  it  was 
mental  or  physical  depression ;  it  seemed  a  com- 
mingling of  each,  and  she  put  forth  strong  effort  for 
normal  poise  of  mind  and  feeling,  as  she  recalled 
the  bright,  sunlighted  hours  of  the  sweet  Springtime 
day.  She  scanned  all  the  circumstances  of  her  life, 
gaining  courage  from  their  unmenaced  peace.  No 
shadow  presaged,  no  storm  threatened,  and — she 
was  silly.  But  still,  fear  held  sway  in  her  mind,  for 
well  she  knew  by  grim  experience  the  instability  of 
human  life  and  the  evanescence  of  the  most  closely 
guarded  happiness ;  that 

"The  rainbow  melts  with  the  shower. 
The  white-thorn  falls  in  the  gust, 

The  rose-cloud  dies  into  shadow. 
The  earth-rose  drops  into  dust." 

and  that: 

"The  bird-song  piercing  the  sunset, 
Faints  with  the  sunset's  fires." 

"The  power  of  the  star  and  the  dew. 
They  grow  and  are  gone  with  a  breath." 

And  like  others  who  listen  to  the  pulsing  of 
Nature's  great  heart,  she  cried  impotently :  "What 
is  to  be,  will  be !"  and  embraced  anew,  thus,  the 
inexorable  creed  of  pre-destination." 


42  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

While  Jean  and  Ruth  were  on  the  veranda,  Donald, 
resting  in  a  hammock  on  the  upper  veranda,  heard, 
incidentally,  their  conversation,  intending  to  forget 
it  promptly,  not  suspecting  that  in  a  distant  future, 
when  changeling  years  had  drifted  him  far  from  the 
moonlighted  night  at  Kissic-Dale,  he  would  recall 
the  prophetic  words  Jean  had  uttered  so  reluctantly, 
as  if  impelled  by  a  power  beyond  her.  At  the  mo- 
ment, he  was  deeply  absorbed  in  a  reverie  purely 
personal,  but  so  intense  that  the  strenuous  ambition 
of  his  heart  was  in  abeyance ;  yet  even  then  he  was 
soundly  logical  in  his  reasonings  and  self-discipline. 
The  result  of  his  musings,  which  lasted  long  hours 
after  an  unbroken  silence  ruled  the  house,  and  even 
Jean  slept,  if  fitfully,  and  the  tranced  shadows  of 
the  leafless  trees,  stretched  far  to  the  eastward. 
What  if  his  hot  heart  yearned  and  clamored,  his 
strong  gray  eyes  gazed  sternly  at  facts  which  not  all 
the  silvery  charm  and  fragrance  of  the  night  could 
vanquish  or  transform  into  good  fairies  holding  to 
his  thirsting  lips  the  coveted  draught  of  happiness. 
So  when  he  stole  to  his  room,  in  the  wee,  small  hours 
of  morning,  he  had  commanded  himself  in  tones  im- 
perative to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  Edwin  Phil- 
lips and  to  attend  strictly  to  his  own  future,  which 
had  not  yet  begun  to  be  builded. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Loch-Lily  —  Fauns     and     Fairies  —  Aladdin's 

Palace. 

"Silver  streams  hath  Arcady, 
Radiant,  shining  skies; 
Flowers  that  could  not  fairer  be 
Seen  by  human  eyes." 

— Selected. 

"When  lite  was  like  a  story. 

Holding  neither  sob  nor  sigh."    — Riley. 

The  third  Saturday  of  the  ensuing  month  of  May, 
the  florescent  charm  of  the  season  was  exquisite  in 
the  tender  verdant  beauty  of  Summer's  finished 
toilet ;  its  fresh  array  of  leaf  and  blossom. 

The  seduction  of  azure  skies,  of  inspiriting  sun- 
shine, was  irresistible.  It  had  rained  the  preceding 
week,  a  cold,  clammy  downpour  from  fiat,  sweeping 
clouds,  estray  from  some  intemperate  zone  alien  to 
May  skies  and  the  Southern  climate,  but  for  the  past 
few  days  unblemished  sunshine  had  bathed  the  earth 
in  a  brilliant  flood  of  genial  warmth  and  balminess. 

That  morning  Jean  had  announced  at  the  break- 
fast table  that  in  the  afternoon  she  was  going  "a- 
fishing"  and  "a-Maying,"  and  invited  all  those  in- 
clined to  recreation  to  join  her,  irrespective  of  color 
or  condition.     Donald  had  declined  regretfully ;  he 


44  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

had  promised  the  day  in  another  direction,  and  soon 
he  had  set  off  to  fulfill  the  appointment. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  a  happy  party  Jean  led  to  her 
picnic  ground  early  after  the  noon  meal;  and  the 
wild  birds  fled,  temporarily,  from  the  chattering 
voices  invading  their  secluded  kingdom  in  the  cool, 
green  woods  below  the  spring  and  the  dairy.  Sandy, 
Jean's  farmer,  and  his  wife.  Dicey,  the  cook,  and 
her  son  Ezeke ;  Sandy's  three  children,  Mary  and 
Ruth,  who  carried  her  sketch-book  and  indulged  in 
much  gay  humor  at  the  expense  of  the  merry  caval- 
cade, armed  with  bamboo  rods  and  carrying  little 
cans  of  bait. 

She  never  angled  since,  as  a  child,  she  had  gone 
with  Jean  and  Mary  to  "Loch-Lily,"  and  the  writh- 
ings  of  the  hook-impaled  worms  and  the  violent 
deaths  of  the  shining-scaled  beauties  of  the  depths 
so  won  her  sympathy  and  compassion,  she  had  aban- 
doned the  sport,  pityingly  and  finally.  But  Jean  had 
locked  her  text-books  in  the  security  and  repose  of 
the  glass-fronted  "secretary,"  and  had  quoted  with 
authority :  "All  work  and  no  play  makes  Jack  a  dull 
boy,"  and  "Gill's  a  stupid  girl,"  she  had  added  sig- 
nificantly as  she  placed  the  key  in  her  pocket. 

Their  rendezvous  was  "Loch-Lily,"  a  famous 
angling  point  for  generations  of  MacKenzies.  Fol- 
lowing the  "spring  branch,"  whose  source  was  the 
sparkling,  never-failing  fountain  at  the  foot  of  a 
cliff-like  hill,  a  dim  path,  from  which  the  under- 
growth was  cut  away  annually,  led  them  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  to  the  banks  of  Holly  Creek,  which  crept 
secretively  through  primeval  privacy,  when  it  had 
passed  from  the  glare  of  publicity  in  the  broad  fields 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  45 

of  Kissic-Dale.  Those  woods  had  been  highly  prized 
from  generation  unto  generation  of  the  rural  Mac- 
Kenzies ;  to  them  it  was  indeed,  a  treasure-trove  in 
the  environing  aridity  of  prevailing  pine  forests;  a 
cherished  arboretum  for  the  pleasure  and  enlighten- 
ment of  their  sons  and  daughters,  in  indigenous 
growths  of  thrifty  trees,  of  trailing  vines  and  creep- 
ing mosses,  in  the  condition  it  had  thriven  in  when 
the  first  MacKenzie,  fresh  from  the  Scottish  hills 
and  lakes,  built  his  hewn-log  residence  and  searched 
out  the  resources  of  the  fertile  valley.  Later  gen- 
erations believed  that  their  pioneer  ancestor  fancied 
a  resemblance  to  his  lamented  Highlands  in  the 
varied  growths  of  the  foliage-crowned,  steep  hills 
and  the  spring-fed  waters  of  Holly  Creek. 

In  a  distant  past  the  creek  had  been  widened  at  a 
certain  point  and  skilfully  deepened,  its  treacherous 
banks  stayed  with  rough  stone  masonry,  and  the  oval 
lake  thus  formed  christened  "Loch-Lily,"  when 
its  margin  had  been  stocked  with  the  fibrous  roots 
and  floating  pads  of  a  medley  assortment  of  water 
lilies  native  to  the  section,  and  brilliant-hued,  indo- 
lent lotuses. 

The  loch  covered  the  greater  part  of  a  flat  dell, 
encircled  and  overshadowed  by  sharp,  wooded  eleva- 
tions, which  began  their  ascent  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  water,  secluding  it  as  if  walled  with  oak,  hickory, 
maple,  dogwood  and  other  Southern  forest ;  and 
the  precipitous  incline  embraced  crevices  recalling 
Dryadical  retreats  meshed  in  ferns,  vines  and  divers 
woodland  plants  common  to  the  climate. 

"Loch-Lily"  was  interesting  at  all  seasons,  but 
never  so  lovely  and  attractive  as  in  the  Maytimc, 


46  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

when  the  green  and  gold  liquid  of  infantile  growth 
surcharged  the  youthful  foliage,  when  the  belated 
arbutus  (and  what  Scottish  heart  could  resist  its 
charm  of  resemblance  and  relation  to  their  moor- 
land heather?)  puts  forth  blossom  weeks  after  their 
sisterhood  had  bloomed  on  the  uplands ;  when  ferns' 
and  delicate  mosses  had  attained  perfect  form,  when 
white-starred  lily-pads  slept  upon  the  opalescent 
bosom  of  the  water  yet  retaining  the  sparkling  purity 
of  winter's  crystal  ice  and  snow ;  and  the  mating 
wild  birds,  nesting  in  the  sylvan  jungles,  and  smiting 
the  warm,  fragrant  solitude  with  long-drawn,  silvery 
notes,  mates  calling  unto  mates  in  endearing  strains, 
from  purple  sunrise  to  sapphire  noon  and  the  golden 
eventide. 

A  great  birch  tree  stood  on  the  hither  side  of  the 
lake  and  rude  stone  steps  led  down  to  the  water 
where  the  tiny  boat,  a  white,  enameled  shallop,  had 
its  place  of  mooring,  since  a  time  far  beyond  the 
memory  of  the  previous  generation. 

The  space  beneath  the  wide-spreading  branches  of 
the  birch  was  hard  and  smooth,  a  sanded  soil, 
splotched  with  green  moss  fostered  by  the  sheltering 
limbs  of  the  old  tree ;  and  there  boulders  of  stone 
from  the  rock-ribbed  hillsides  had  been  placed  for 
the  convenience  of  anglers.  In  that  interesting  re- 
treat Jean  seated  her  companions,  that  they  might 
angle  for  the  finny  tribe,  who  frequented  the  dark, 
deep  water  which  bathed  the  roots  of  the  tree,  where 
there  was  a  "baited"  space  free  of  the  floating  lotus, 
lily,  and  coarse,  picturesque  rushes  that  grew  rankly 
in  the  more  shallow  margins  of  the  lake. 

Until  the  heat  and  languor  of  the  noon  hours 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  47 

lapsed  into  tlio  lengthening  shadows  and  refreshing 
breezes  of  midsummer  afternoon,  Ruth  loitered  in 
the  water-gemmed  dell  where  the  fishing  was  desul- 
tory and  the  luck  minus  excitement.  Quietude  was 
strictly  enjoined,  for  the  fish  in  "Loch-Lily"  were 
notoriously  shy  of  the  human  voice,  so  she  sought 
out  the  tiny  growths  of  the  moist  locality,  sketched 
some,  but  oftener  sat  in  restful,  dreamy  repose, 
seeing  the  tender  leaves  flutter  in  the  languid  breeze 
like  the  half-formed,  palpitant  hopes  which  some- 
times stirred  her  heart  with  indefinite  desire  and 
pleasure. 

In  her  brief  acquaintance  with  the  locality,  it  had 
meant  much  more  than  a  botanical  study  or  resort 
for  angling  with  its  pleasures ;  or  than  as  a  realm 
dedicated  to  the  goddess  Flora.  Each  year  since 
her  infancy  the  place  had  held  a  different  seeming  in 
its  mysterious  silences ;  for  it  had  ever  been  that 
there  her  fruitful  imagination  could  take  unto  itself 
irresponsible  wings  and  float  into  regions  not  re- 
stricted by  periods  of  time,  limitations  of  space  or 
the  material  difference  of  locality. 

In  her  most  youthful  days  it  had  been  fairyland, 
and  tiny  elves  hid  in  the  fern-banks  in  the  daytime 
and  danced  upon  the  spaces  of  emerald  moss  by 
moonlight  radiance.  Tiny  gnomes  peopled  the  liquid 
obscurity  of  the  dimpling  water,  whose  groves  and 
temples  were  canopied  by  the  lilies  and  the  tall 
rushes,  which  grew  thriftily  in  places  not  covered  by 
the  encroaching  nymphae. 

Such  fancies  had  had  their  passing  with  Kriss- 
Kringle  or  Santa  Claus,  giving  peace  to  adaptations 


48  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

of  the  creations  of  other  minds  and  the  romantic 
incidents  of  history  to  the  wood-enhanced  scenes. 

Beacons  had  flashed  upon  the  hill,  and  there 
shepherds  had  led  their  gentle  sheep,  seeking  pasture 
and  piping  their  flutes,  when  it  was  the  heart  of 
Scotia,  the  landscape  of  its  pastoral  episodes,  and 
the  scenes  of  its  warring  feuds;  there,  then,  battles 
had  been  fought  and  castles  besieged,  clans  anni- 
hilated ;  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  had  held  court  there 
and  rode  in  quest  of  the  displeasing  Gordons.  The 
heroes  of  the  Waverley  Novels  had  also  lived  the 
most  exciting  phases  of  their  thrilling  romances  in 
that  vicinity. 

In  one  fascinating  period,  "Loch-Lily"  had  been 
"Loch-Katrine,"  and  her  own  white  boat,  christened 
anew  each  succeeding  Spring,  when  it  received  its 
annual  coat  of  white  paint,  was  the  famous  skiff  that 
bore  "Ellen"  and  the  "Knight  of  Snowden,"  to  the 
Highland  lodge  of  the  exiled  Douglas ;  and  the  un- 
suspecting pigs  and  calves  and  the  browsing  sheep 
and  swine  figured  as  wild  beasts  and  animals  daring 
the  skill  and  valor  of  betartaned  huntsmen,  and  as 
lithe  buck  and  roe,  hiding  in  the  leafy  coverts  of 
vine  and  bracken. 

Its  most  innocent  domain  was  filled  with  storied 
action  and  the  happenings  of  ancestral  legends,  it 
had  lent  itself  so  facilely  to  her  imagery  of  the 
knowledge  she  had  been  industriously  acquiring 
throughout  her  recent  childhood,  it  so  satisfied  her 
roving  thoughts  with  its  remoteness  and  seclusion 
from  the  strenuous,  every-day  life  of  human  en- 
deavor. 

Its  most  thrilling  seeming  had  been  when  it  was 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  4^ 

a  realm  of  magic,  the  abode  of  deified  Nature,  as 
portrayed  in  the  mythological  treatises  she  had  been 
permitted  to  study ;  then  Fauns  and  Satyrs,  Dryads, 
Xaiads,  aye !  all  the  sylvan  gods  and  goddesses  had 
haunted  the  green  shadows  and — "wove  their  spells, 
where  hung  sweet  lily-bells" — and  birds  flung  trill- 
ing melody  to  seduce  the  hearts  of  wood-nymphs 
and  water-sprites  when  they  held  revelling  courts 
attended  by  the  children  of  the  gods,  solely. 

Latterly,  it  had  evoked  day-dreams ;  misty,  specu- 
lative visions  of  a  veiled  future ;  and  embryo  ambi- 
tions had  superseded  the  impractical  thrall  of  fancies 
which  had  so  enriched  her  lonely  childhood  that  had 
known  no  playfellows  but  Jamie  and  Ezeke,  both 
much  younger  than  herself,  and  as  much  without 
her  inward  life  as  the  kittens,  the  calves  and  the 
pigeons ;  thus  she  stood  alone,  her  own  self,  with  no 
alloy  of  ulterior  association  mingling  with  her  stan- 
dards of  thought  attained  by  rigidly  circumscribed 
instruction  and  the  normal  conception  of  a  sensitive 
soul  in  its  most  transitory  stage. 

She  had  become  enamored  with  the  joys  of  intel- 
lectual attainment  and  had  experienced  the  thrill  of 
creative  labor,  the  satisfaction  of  achievement.  To 
acquaint  herself  thoroughly  with  the  texts  of  her 
studies,  to  give  skillful  interpretation  to  an  intricate 
musical  composition,  to  portray  with  idealistic  touch 
a  scene  upon  cardboard,  to  know  how  Iphogenia  did 
the  clear  starching,  and  how  Dicey  contrived  the 
many  tempting  dishes  were  real  pleasures  and  of 
absorbing  interest,  each  in  their  allotted  season  of 
the  happy  hours. 

As  the  afternoon  waned,  she  had  tired  of  the  re- 


50  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

straint  of  the  quietude  angling  imposed  and  the  con- 
sequent dreaming,  and  had  wandered  away,  accom- 
panied by  the  restless  children,  adown  the  dim  trail, 
whcih  led  deep  into  unfrequented  woods  and  un- 
familiar stretches  of  the  meandering  creek ;  into  the 
region  of  the  gods,  the  wood-nymphs,  and  Nature's 
secluded,  unhampered  domain. 

When  they  returned  late  in  the  afternoon  her 
mind  was  unusually  introspective  and  spiritually 
wistful ;  and  the  eagerness  of  successful  sport  was 
dominant  among  the  anglers. 

"May  I  disturb  you  all  for  a  moment,  just  long 
enough  to  row  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  water?" 
she  requested,  as  she  stood  by  Jean,  carrying  her 
sketch-book  and  pencils.  She  pleaded  in  a  subdued 
and  timid  tone,  and  Jean  felt  rebuked  for  selfish- 
ness. The  child  shut  up  in  the  schoolroom  all  the 
week  and  then  repressed  in  a  rare  and  brief  outing! 

So  she  assented  in   her  ordinary  tone  of  voice, 
which   sounded   startling  loud   after  the  prolonged 
period  of  whispers  and  mute  signs  of  communica- 
tion.    As  Ruth  pushed  away  from  the  landing,  she 
earnestly  thanked  them  for  their  concession  to  her 
whims.    "And,"  she  added,  with  laughing  jest,  while 
she  managed  the  oars  with  grace  and  skill,  "you  are 
certainly  picturesque.     I  wish  to  include  you  in  a 
series  of  sketches  I  propose  making  and  entitle  it 
'The  Anglers  of  Loch-Lily.'    Kathy's  hair  has  fallen 
from  its  coil,  Sandy's  is  rakishly  dishevelled.  Auntie 
has  a  smudge  on  her  nose,  Dicey's  turban  is  all  awry, 
and   Mary  has  a   disreputable   stain  upon  her  left 
cheek;  indeed,  all  of  you  are  in  various  stages  of 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  51 

untidiness  and  reckless  absorption  in  an  inglorious 
sport !" 

Her  mirth  was  gleeful,  as  they  each  manifested  a 
sudden  interest  in  their  personal  appearance. 

"Never  mind,  my  dearies,  so  long  as  you  are  en- 
joying yourselves.  The  considerations  of  the  toilet 
are  of  minor  importance  to  a  really  good  time.  My 
own  hands  are  soiled  beyond  recognition  and  my 
unseen  countenance  may  be  in  any  condition,  but  I 
shall  not  worry  in  the  least!  When  I  return,  I  shall 
fetch  a  whole  boat-load  of  lilies  to  decorate  the 
house  for  the  Sabbath.  I  hope  the  fish  will  return 
in  a  monent,  come  back  to  escape  me  over  here !" 

She  nodded  gaily,  and  with  hurried  strokes  backed 
the  boat  quite  to  the  opposite  shore.  There  among 
the  rushes  and  the  lily-pads,  the  star-like,  white  and 
carmine-tinted,  waxen  blossoms,  she  moored  the 
boat  to  a  stout  rush-stalk  and  began  a  sketch  con- 
ceived while  threading  the  woods  and  reflecting 
upon  former  fancies. 

She  was  not  so  much  engaged  but  she  noted  with 
teasing  humor  the  happenings  on  the  bank.  When 
the  sun  sank  behind  the  western  hill,  rearing  loftily 
above  the  land  and  water-locked  dell,  a  luminous 
shadow  gloomed  the  water,  a  refulgence  from  the 
sunlight  slanting  upon  the  tree-tops  far  above,  and 
the  fish  seemed  ravenous  since  the  white  light  had 
forsaken  their  retreat;  and  excitement  and  disaster 
prevailed  on  land. 

Kathy,  Jr.  in  unskilled  endeavor  to  land  a  min- 
now, hooked  firmly  and  tenaciously  Dicey's  red  silk 
turban,  worn  in  honor  of  the  gala  occasion ;  Jamie 
unbonneted  Mary  Graham,  and  afterward  attached 


52  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

his  hook  finally,  it  seemed,  before  it  was  extracted, 
in  the  strong  linen  meshes  of  Jean's  dainty  collar. 
Ezeke  landed  a  small  fish  upon  the  white  expanse  of 
Dicey's  "Sunday  apern,"  and  Jean  had  to  interfere 
to  avert  immediate  and  aggressive  war.  Then  Ezeke 
sulked  beyond  Jamie's  position  upon  a  favorite 
boulder,  until  sleep  overcame  him  and  he  nodded, 
intermittingly. 

Jamie,  responding  to  a  nibble  at  his  hook,  pulled 
violently  and  at  first  futilely  upon  the  impaled  prey 
until  it  came  forth,  wriggling  and  squirming,  and  a 
chorus  of  shrieks  from  women  and  children  attended 
its  gyrating  departure  from  its  native  element  to 
hostile,  unwelcome  land.  Ezeke  awoke,  startled, 
and  the  creature  on  Jamie's  hook,  as  if  by  some 
malevolent  instinct,  instantly  threw  itself  upon  the 
gaping  boy  and  encircled  his  neck  with  the  wet  line. 
He  rivalled  then  the  dance  of  the  whirling  Dervishes, 
for  he  believed  the  creature  a  serpent,  as  its  lithe 
body  whipped  his  breast  and  thrust  itself  into  his 
shrieking  mouth. 

Ruth  sat  helpless  in  her  boat  but  deeply  sym- 
pathetic with  Ezeke's  terror  of  the  loathsome  object. 
It  was  such  a  repulsive  thing  to  have  invaded  their 
sylvan  Paradise. 

"My  dearies,"  she  suggested  persuasively  across 
the  prismatic  water,  that  reflected  the  hues  of  the 
azure  depths  far  above  the  leafy  tree-tops,  "I  would 
not  risk  life  and  Hmb  any  more  if  I  were  you! 
Would  it  not  be  prudence  to  return  home  before 
something  really  serious  happens?" 

"Not  just  yet,  Ruthie;  the  fish  are  biting  so 
famously,"  Jean  protested,  wistfully. 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  53 

"And  there  may  not  be  another  eel  in  a  mile  of 
this  place,"  Sandy  amended,  intently  absorbed  in  the 
uncertain  sport. 

Ruth  sighed  but  urged  them  no  farther.  Sandy 
landed  a  plump  perch  and  a  tense  silence  followed. 
Ruth  sat  motionless  ;  she  had  completed  the  outlining 
of  her  sketch  but  inspiration  had  ceased  with  the 
appearance  of  the  monster  which  had  shocked  her 
idealistic  conception  of  the  locality,  and  she  could 
not  gather  lilies  and  ruffle  the  placid  water  so  essen- 
tial for  successful  angling  in  Loch-Lily. 

The  light  waned  in  its  illuminating  diffusiveness ; 
the  shadows  deepened  and  the  water  darkened  until 
its  depths  seemed  immense  and  obscurely  mysteri- 
ous ;  the  bird  notes  were  solemn  though  musical  calls 
for  vesper  repose.  She  lost  sense  of  time  and  for- 
got her  companions,  even  the  eel  which  had  so 
startled  her.  She  sat  silhouetted  against  a  back- 
ground of  water  rushes  and  the  wooded  hillside, 
rearing  precipitously  beyond  the  sloping  bank  laved 
by  the  water  and  swept  by  lily-pads,  undulating  on  a 
liquid  bosom.  She  was  not  aware  of  the  beauty  of 
her  graceful  pose  in  the  emerald  shadows,  pervaded 
with  an  amber  radiance  reflected  from  a  sky  shot 
with  slanting  rays  from  a  blazing  sun,  then  far  down 
behind  the  western  hill ;  a  golden-haired,  white- 
robed  Naiad,  with  vailed  eyes  drooping  in  careless 
fashion,  her  duplicated  position  in  the  white  boat, 
the  name  "Ruth"  flashing  in  golden  letters  evenly 
with  the  water,  which  reproduced  it  all  literally,  in 
inverted  reflection. 

Thus  Donald  and  Edwin  Phillips  discovered  her 
as  they  emerged  from  the  screening  shrubs  flanking 


54  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

the  path,  which  led  them  in  their  quest  for  the  May- 
ing party.  Donald  had  met,  by  appointment,  his 
recent  acquaintance,  at  a  certain  point  on  the  road 
beyond  the  schoolhouse,  and  had  spent  the  day  with 
him  in  the  woods,  dining  with  him,  Jennie  and  the 
children,  and  finally  bringing  the  young  man  with 
him  to  Kissic-Dale  to  spend  the  evening.  As  they 
came  from  the  woodland  into  the  smooth,  cleared 
space  between  the  water  and  the  hill,  they  discov- 
ered Ruth,  and  paused  involuntarily,  staring  for  a 
few  ungoverned  moments  at  a  vision  which  would 
have  entranced  sterner  and  more  elderly  eyes  than 
theirs,  alertly  bright,  and  probing  with  early  man- 
hood's unsatiated  zest  and  romantic  ardor. 

The  scene,  the  opal-tinted  lake  set  in  a  wreathing 
margin  of  the  delicate  beauty  of  lily  and  lotus ;  the 
engirdling  hills  clothed  in  the  tender  emerald  of 
youthful  verdure  unscathed  by  Summer's  blanching 
suns  and  showers ;  the  fragrant  incense  emanating 
from  the  waxen  hearts  of  the  starry  nympha,  and 
the  vesper  solitude  smitten  with  the  fainting  notes 
of  weary  songsters,  was  a  fitting  environment  for 
the  young  girl  who  appeared  to  them  the  incarnation 
of  the  charm  of  the  scene  and  the  enrapturing 
glamor  of  approaching  eventide. 

Then  Ruth  opened  her  eyes  with  a  sensitive  flash 
and  with  artless  surprise  met  their  direct  and  ad- 
miring scrutiny  as  they  stood  motionless,  impassive ; 
and  her  cheeks  flushed  timidly  with  a  strange  dismay 
and  shyness,  as  she  smiled  a  welcome  to  Donald. 

"Hist !"  she  warned  them,  in  a  voice  that  carried 
her  tones  clear  and  distinct  over  the  resonant  water, 
and  she  pointed  to  the  group  under  the  birch  tree. 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  55 

Donald  laughed  a  hearty,  unrestrained  peal  of 
acute  mirth.  Birds  fled  precipitately ;  echoes  of  his 
mirth  called  mockingly  from  caverned  hills ;  the 
group  on  the  bank  were  startled  and  aroused  to  a 
perception  of  his  presence,  and  the  spell  of  beauty, 
of  sentiment,  was  dissipated  as  he  led  his  companion 
to  Jean  and  introduced  him  as  a  guest  of  her  famous 
home. 

Jean  was  very  much  impressed  with  the  neatly 
groomed,  handsome  young  stranger.  She  loved 
beauty  and  was  thrilled  with  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
such  a  charming  specimen  of  youthful  manhood. 
She  lost  interest  in  the  fish  and  transferred  her  at- 
tention to  her  guest.  "Come,  Ruth,"  she  cried,  in  a 
happy  effusiveness,  "it  is  time  we  were  going  home, 
I  am  sure." 

"Certainly,  Auntie,"  Ruth  responded  with  hidden 
amusement,  and  she  fell  to  gathering  lilies  with  the 
energy  of  a  long-delayed  impulse,  gathering  a  full 
harvest  of  the  tempting  blossoms,  with  their  lengthy, 
rubber-like  stems,  which  attested  standard  purity. 

Donald's  companion  she  accepted  without  com- 
ment, even  in  thought.  His  coming  to  Kissic-Dale 
seemed  a  natural  sequence  to  events  in  the  recent 
past ;  and  they  were  accustomed  to  entertaining  the 
strangers  who  rarely  invaded  the  neighborhood.  She 
recalled  her  memory  of  the  driver  of  a  pretty  horse 
who  had,  at  intervals,  appeared  at  the  school  to 
carry  his  young  cousins  home.  Once,  during  the 
rainy  days  of  the  previous  week,  he  had  been, 
momentarily,  something  more,  when  she  had  left  the 
schoolroom  to  enter  her  waiting  carriage,  and  he 
had  swept  into  view  from  the  rain-drenched,  cloud- 


56  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

gloomed  forest,  a  dripping  umbrella  sheltering  him 
from  the  perpendicular  downpour  of  raindrops,  his 
sleek  raincoat  glistening  with  moisture,  his  soft  hat- 
brim  pressed  back  from  his  white  forehead,  his 
smiling  features  and  his  dark  eyes  alight  with  a 
tender  radiance  which  gave  her  an  impression  as  if 
sunlight  had  swept  into  the  gray,  inclement  atmos- 
phere. 

As  she  plucked  the  lilies  from  their  watery  roots, 
he  was  reeling  in  Jean's  damp  fishing  line,  and 
Donald  was  viewing  the  eel,  which  still  squirmed 
and  wriggled,  coating  its  gelatinous  body  with  dirt 
and  sand. 

"Ruth,"  he  requested  in  a  playful  mood,  "come 
classify  this  aquatic  monster  to  atone  for  neglecting 
your  studies  to  gather  lilies  !" 

"It's  an  eel,  Mars  Donald,"  Dicey  explained,  as 
she  avoided  it  in  gathering  up  the  scattered  fish 
representing  various  catches. 

"Yes,  I  know  that  much,  but  I  want  Ruth  to  tell 
me  what  kind  of  an  eel  it  is,"  he  persisted  in  dic- 
tatorial humor,  "whether  it  is  of  the  genus  Amphi- 
uma,  Amphioxiis,  or  some  other  genus." 

"It's  jest  er  eel,  I  tell  ye,"  Dicey  insisted,  eyeing 
the  loathsome  object;  "a  hateful,  slimy  eel,  with 
thunder  or  something  all  over  him.  My  hands  ache 
yit  where  he  struck  me,  they  do." 

"You  need  not  bother  now.  Ruth,"  Donald  ex- 
claimed, dramatically  serious.  "Dicey  has  explained. 
She  says  it  is  an  electric  eel  of  the  genus  Anquiller 
Vulgaris ;  that  she  knows  from  personal  contact, 
which  is  the  surest  test." 

Ruth  had  heaped  her  boat  with  fragrant  bud  and 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  57 

blossom  and  was  propelling  it  toward  the  landing; 
her  eyes  beseeched  Donald. 

"Hide  it,  please,  Donald,  oh,  please  do,  for  poor 
little  Ruth !"  she  begged  in  a  guarded  tone  of  tense 
entreaty.  She  rested  the  oars  and  waited  anxiously. 

Donald  gathered  a  leafy  bough  and  thus  shielding 
his  hands  he  caught  the  eel  and  disappeared  with  it 
down  the  trail  following  the  water.  A  splash  a 
moment  later  proclaimed  that  the  tortured  creature 
had  regained  its  life-giving  element.  Donald  re- 
turned and  hastened  to  assist  Ruth  as  her  boat 
touched  the  stone  pier. 

"Hail,  Lady  of  the  Lake !  May  James  Fitzjames 
— er — er — ah "  he  paused  for  grandiloquent  ex- 
pression, and  then,  with  an  air  of  discreetness,  re- 
sumed in  quite  another  tone,  "I  will  take  care  of 
your  lilies.     Go  meet  my   friend." 

Ruth  leaped  ashore,  her  arms  laden  with  the 
treasures  she  was  guarding  too  carefully  to  trust  to 
his  ignorance  of  a  lily's  fragility.  As  he  was  secur- 
ing the  chain  to  the  staple  used  to  moor  the  little 
craft,  Jean,  marshalling  her  crowd,  headed  the  pro- 
cession wending  homeward. 

At  the  white  turnstile  which  gave  egress  from  the 
woods,  Edwin  Phillips  observed  Ruth  loitering  in 
the  rear  of  the  straggling  procession  as  she  came  out 
of  the  semi-gloom  beneath  the  trees,  a  smile  linger- 
ing on  her  lips,  her  eyes  pensive  and  serene,  em- 
bracing the  splendor  of  the  glowing  sunset  devotion- 
ally  ;  her  hair  shining  as  a  drapery  of  gold,  golden 
tendrils  caressing  her  thoughtful,  white  brow,  the 
dark  veil  of  lashes  lifted  from  the  spiritual  orbs  they 
were  wont  to  cast  in  mystic  shadow.     She  was  not 


58  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

then  a  child,  bvit  a  budding  woman,  searching  with 
wistful  probing  the  scroll  of  the  unwritten  future 
and  the  obscure  horoscope  of  an  illimitable  eternity. 

Donald,  also,  turned  and  glanced  a  swift  scrutiny 
of  Ruth's  mood  and  appearance,  then  he  caught  step 
with  Mary  Graham  and  proceeded  nonchalantly  and 
cheerfully. 

"Mr.  Phillips,"  Jean  remarked  to  her  own  gallant 
escort,  "there  is  our  dairy  and  spring-house.  Some 
day,  when  the  sun  is  too  powerful  for  comfort  out 
in  the  forest,  come  over  and  find  out  their  supreme 
comfort  and  attractiveness.  Just  now  I  shall  merely 
introduce  them." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  do  so,"  he  returned,  grate- 
fully. "Less  superior  attraction  would  appeal  irre- 
sistibly then,  I  am  sure." 

"Since  meeting  you  and  knowing  the  condidtions 
you  have  to  contend  with  in  your  work,  I  shall  be 
glad  if  I  can  in  any  way  contribute  to  your  happi- 
ness," Jean  assured  him  with  sincere  sympathy.  In 
her  heart,  she  was  saying,  "He  is  such  a  charming, 
gallant  young  fellow,  I  am  sure  he  has  a  lovely 
mother,  who  is  devoted  to  him.  She  could  not  be 
otherwise  to  .such  a  dear  boy." 

His  heart  was  rioting  with  the  bliss  of  the  in- 
tensely desired  opportunity  of  meeting  Ruth  and 
feasting  his  eyes  upon  her  loveliness.  He  and 
Donald"  had  found  companionship  very  congenial. 
They  were  mutually  informed  of  many  subjects  and 
phases  of  life,  and  the  isolated  country  presented 
little  of  social  interest  to  either,  but  Edwin  Philhps 
was  dominated  by  one  supreme  purpose  in  meeting 
the  proffered  friendship  of  Donald  cordially.     He 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  59 

really,  apart  from  any  selfish  motive,  felt  a  sincere 
liking  for  the  clear-eyed,  cultured  young  Scotchman, 
and  the  affinity  deepened  with  the  prospect  of  gain- 
ing an  introduction  to  Ruth  and  Kissic-Dale.  In  the 
same  grateful  spirit  he  was  cultivating  Jean's  liking 
and  thus  attaining  the  vantage  point  of  intimacy  in 
the  family  circle. 

Conditions  are  the  fostering  elements  of  a  great 
and  absorbing  passion ;  and  not  one  other  is  so  in- 
tense and  wholesome  as  living  near  to  Nature's 
heart.  Mankind,  as  represented  in  society,  is  a 
disillusionist,  who  ruthlessly  sweeps  away  the  ten- 
derest  and  most  potential  emotions  of  the  human 
heart,  leaving  it  callous  and  insensible  to  the 
sweetest,  most  divinely  implanted  instincts  of  the 
soul  unto  which,  alone,  is  accorded  the  joys  of  an 
unalloyed  passion  wholly  unknown  to  the  worldly 
and  aspiring.  So  fate  had  suddenly  controlled  the 
fieart  of  Edwin  Phillips.  His  regenerated  percep- 
cions  thrilled  sensitively  to  the  winds  sweeping  the 
shrilling  harps  of  the  singing  pines ;  to  the  flashing 
radiance  of  jewelled  sunlight;  to  the  vesper  light 
and  the  matin  glitter  of  the  scintillating  stars ;  to 
babbling  water  and  caressing  breezes,  whose  in- 
fluence reigned  supreme  in  the  cloistered  stillness 
and  cathedral  dignity  of  the  forest,  and  induced 
meditation  and  reflection,  and  a  heed  to  the  great 
primal  need  of  the  soul. 

He  was  then  so  en  rapport  with  the  peaceful  scene, 
he  viewed  the  white-walled  dairy,  screened  by 
drooping  willow  branches,  and  the  overflowing 
fountain  cradled  in  a  white  stone  basin  and  hedged 
with  limpid  ferns  and  trailing  mosses,  in  the  light 


60  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

of  an  Aladdin's  palace,  where  wishes  were  magically 
changed  into  joys;  and  singing  birds  of  blissful  an- 
ticipations nested  in  the  heart  and  piped  of  sub- 
lunary felicity. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The    Guest — Music    and    ]\Ioonlight — Galatea 

AND  Tears. 

"As  when  a  flower  holds  my  eyes  enchained 
By  its  impassioned  beauty,  so  thy  face 

Holds  me,  beloved,  till  I  have  attained 
Full  knowledge  of  its  grace;      .      .      ." 

— Selected. 

The  sunset  tints  had  dissolved  into  violet  shades 
fringing  the  robe  of  departing  day,  when  Jean 
sought  Ruth,  bearing  in  her  arms  a  filmy  white  dress, 
flufify  with  lace  and  airy  frills. 

Ruth  was  standing  before  the  mirror  in  her  room, 
leisurely  brushing  her  hair.  There  was  an  air  of 
cheerful  haste  and  pleasurable  excitement  attending 
Jean's  entrance  which  influenced  her  to  pause  and 
observe  her  relative  with  wondering  attention.  She 
had  just  returned  from  feeding  the  pigeons,  and  the 
time  until  the  supper-bell  rang  she  had  esteemed  as 
her  own,  to  spend  alone  and  restfully. 

"Must  I  dress.  Auntie?"  she  queried  in  surprise, 
as  she  beheld  the  dress  that  had  been  her  smartest 
costume  the  previous  summer. 

"Surely,  bairnie,  in  courtesy  to  the  stranger  within 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  61 

our  gates,  who  has  been  accustomed  to  the  conven- 
tions of  gentle  people.  If  we  are  in  the  backwoods, 
we  need  not  be  rustics  in  our  dress  and  behavior; 
and  in  society  it  is  the  appearance  that  denotes  the 
standard  of  one's  position." 

"But  Auntie,  I  have  outgrown  that  dress.  Had 
you  forgotten?" 

"Yes.  but  last  week  I  made  alterations  that  you 
might  be  able  to  wear  it  while  waiting  for  the 
dresses  Airs.  Barnard  is  having  made  for  you.  Put 
it  on,  please,  and  arrange  your  hair  more  formally 
by  the  time  I  also  have  changed  my  dress."  Then 
Jean  left  the  room  hurriedly,  Ruth  regarding  her 
with  a  quizzical  expression. 

When  Jean  returned  after  a  brief  absence,  Ruth 
was  wearing  the  dress  and  was  busily  folding  an 
azure  ribbon  about  her  slender  waist,  as  she  sang  in 
her  clear,  young  voice,  "Oh,  Fair  Dove,"  a  song 
popular  with  Jean  and  Airs.  Barnard,  her  former 
governess,  for  a  brief  season : 

"Oh,  fair  dove!     Oh,  fond  dove! 

Oh,  dove  with  the  white,  white  breast! 
Leave  me  alone  as  I  make  my  moan. 

And  my  heart  seeks  peace  and  rest." 


She  sang  unconsciously,  a  fond  memory  of  her 
pets  dimly  influencing  the  trend  of  her  musings. 
The  note  of  tragedy  portrayed  in  minor  chords  and 
cadences,  the  wistful  and  despairing  suggestion  of 
the  strangely  weird  ballad,  jarred  upon  Jean's  happy 
mood. 


62  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

"Why  do  you  sing  that  now,  bairnie  ?"  she  asked, 
disapprovingly. 

"I  do  not  know,  dearie.  I  was  not  aware  that  I 
was  singing  until  you  mentioned  the  song,"  Ruth 
answered,  apologetically. 

Jean  placed  her  pinz-nez  and  scanned  her  niece 
with  fond  criticism ;  then  adjusted  the  bow  which 
confined  her  yellow,  fluffy  hair  and  patted  the  silken 
sash  into  graceful  undulations. 

She  nodded  approval  and  said:  "Come,  bairnie," 
as  she  led  the  way  toward  the  veranda,  Ruth  follow- 
ing docilely  to  achieve  a  fresh  lesson  in  deportment, 
for  thus  she  regarded  the  event.  Lessons  were  the 
rule  of  her  life ;  step  by  step,  she  had  been  led  since 
earliest  infancy,  into  books  and  knowledge,  into 
economics  pertaining  to  the  home,  in  social  behavior. 
Following  Jean  up  the  colonnaded  veranda  was  but 
one  of  many  tasks  imposed  by  her  accruing  rote  of 
attainments ;  but  it  was  more  formal  and  embarrass- 
ing than  any  previous  experience  she  was  capable 
of  recalling,  except  the  annual  torture  of  being 
photographed. 

Jean  wore  a  modest  white  rose  in  the  sleek  coils 
of  her  fair  hair,  and  carried  herself  with  an  imperial 
stateliness  which  awed  and  impressed  Ruth  with  the 
formality  of  the  occasion.  At  the  southern  point  of 
the  wide  veranda,  Donald  and  his  guest  reclined  in 
wicker  chairs  and  awaited  them,  and  supper. 

As  Ruth  approached  in  the  wake  of  Jean's  rustling 
progress,  a  nervous  panic  assailed  her  mind.  She 
dared  not  meet  Donald's  critical  regard  or  Jamie's 
staring  wonder ;  she  stood  with  downcast  eyes  and 
waited  for  Jean  to  solve  the  dilemma  of  her  deport- 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  63 

merit.  The  incense  of  roses  and  lilies  floated  upon 
the  wings  of  the  eventide  zephyrs,  the  valley  reposed 
in  the  violet  shadows  of  approaching  twilight,  a 
pale  moon  posed  serenely  over  the  purpling,  pine- 
clad  hills  far  to  the  eastward. 

"Mr.  Phillips,"  Jean  said,  dimpling  and  smiling, 
enthused  with  the  pleasure  of  showing  her  most 
loved  treasure,  "I  want  you  to  know  our  bairnie,  our 
little  Ruth!" 

Edwin  Phillips  arose  and  bent  his  head  low,  with 
distant  courtesy.  His  manner  posed  Ruth  upon  a 
pedestal  of  womanly  remoteness  and  seclusiveness, 
and  repelled  the  suggestion  of  artless  intimacy  inti- 
mated by  Jean's  mode  of  presentation.  Not  as  a 
child  could  he  meet  and  establish  an  acquaintance 
with  the  queenly,  slender  girl,  who  had  so  enthralled 
his  mind  and  heart  and  swayed  his  soul  with  pas- 
sion's uttermost  enchantment. 

Ruth's  drooping  eyes  filled  with  nervous  tears, 
which  blurred  her  vision,  a  burning  blush  spread 
swiftly  from  throat  to  brow,  as  Edwin  withdrew  his 
glance  and  attention. 

"You  have  a  charming  home,  Mrs.  MacEarchan. 
I  have  been  admiring  the  view  and  your  flowers,"  he 
said,  in  his  suave,  gentle  voice,  as  he  indicated  the 
scene  in  question  by  a  wave  of  his  hand,  which  held 
an  unlighted  cigar.  Apparently,  he  had  forgotten 
Ruth  and  had  centered  his  mind  upon  the  landscape ; 
and  Ruth  moved  over  to  where  Donald  sat,  con- 
tained and  silent,  and  found  a  seat  beside  him. 
Timid  with  uncomfortable  sensations,  she  slipped 
her  hand  into  his  with  confiding  appeal  for  comfort 
and  companionship. 


64  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

Jean  and  her  guest  were  discussing  the  potted 
fuchsias  clustered  around  the  base  of  the  nearest 
cokimn.  Ruth's  fingers  fluttered  like  a  frightened 
bird  in  Donald's  listless  clasp  until  he  resolutely 
withdrew  from  the  contact,  and  said  in  his  most 
practical  and  indifferent  voice :  "Shall  I  have  to 
deprive  you  of  playtime  on  Monday,  Ruth?  Have 
you  prepared  your  lessons?" 

Ruth's  quick,  sweet  smile  flashed  over  her  fea- 
tures instantly.  "It  is  Aunt  Jean  should  bear  the 
punishment ;  she  has  locked  up  all  my  books.  Won't 
you  have  her  to  give  them  to  me  after  supper,  that  I 
may  atone  for  the  day's  idleness?" 

"No,"  he  said,  positively,  "the  evening  belongs  to 
the  entertainment  of  our  guest." 

The  supper  bell  rang,  and  they  followed  Jean  and 
Edwin  to  the  dining-room,  where  j\Iary  Graham  and 
Iphogenia  had  displayed  taste  and  skill  in  arranging 
the  sumptuously  spread  tea  table.  Its  glittering  ma- 
hogany surface  was  enhanced  by  dainty  lace  doilies, 
and  adorned  with  real  cut  glass  and  silver,  and  bowls 
of  long-stemmed,  fragrant  roses.  Edwin  Phillips' 
trained  glance  took  note  of  the  appointments,  and 
he  tasted  the  rich  fare  with  the  relish  of  an  epicure 
emerging  from  abstinence. 

He  gave  an  undivided  attention  to  Jean  and  the 
conversation  she  led,  apparently,  but  every  move- 
ment and  expression  of  Ruth  was  garnered,  inci- 
dentally. She  fitted  so  harmoniously  into  the  envir- 
onment of  her  home ;  into  the  details  of  the  artis- 
tically embellished  homestead  and  the  gentle  refine- 
ment of  the  pleasant  household ;  into  the  roseate 
radiance  diffused  from  the  shaded  candles  in  the 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  65 

tall  candelabra  and  the  rose-scented  atmosphere  of 
the  place;  and  she  was  the  fairest  object  of  all  the 
flower-decked  domain. 

She  was  such  an  unmitigated  surprise,  encoun- 
tered so  unexpectedly  in  those  distant  forests  of  pine 
and  sand !  He  thrilled  with  silent  exultation  in  that 
he  had  found  her  thus,  in  her  youthful  beauty  and 
innocence,  and  as  securely  sheltered  as  the  arbutus 
and  jessamine  adorning  the  placid  bosom  of  the 
forest. 

He  recalled  the  story  of  "The  Sleeping  Princess," 
of  which  he  was  enamored  in  his  more  callow  youth, 
and  found  in  it  an  analogy  to  his  discovery  of  Ruth. 
The  forgotten  castle,  where  the  princess  slept,  was 
deep  in  the  heart  of  a  wood,  and  in  the  primeval 
woods  he  had  found  Ruth.  How  alien  she  had  ap- 
peared to  the  life  he  had  known  out  in  the  forest; 
but  all  incongruousness  vanished  when  he  had  en- 
tered the  gates  which  shut  in  Kissic-Dale.  The  green 
valley,  the  bridge-spanned  brook,  the  groves  and 
orchard,  the  leafy,  vine-tendrilled  woodland  seclud- 
ing "Loch-Lily,"  the  artistic  grounds  encircling  the 
imposing  mansion  with  its  wide  verandas,  massively 
colonnaded,  and  the  life  it  sheltered,  were  a  fit 
environment  for  her  grace  and  loveliness. 

The  touch  of  age  portrayed  in  every  one  of  those 
details  were  "hall-marks"  of  the  lineage  and  in- 
fluence suited  to  the  prediction  of  a  final  ideal  in 
blood  and  heritage  of  charm;  truly,  she  was  a 
princess  also  by  the  right  of  her  perfect  beauty  and 
inheritance  of  fair  Kissic-Dale,  that  was  more  than 
a  castle  in  the  woods ;  it  was  a  home  where  she 
reigned  as  a  supreme  idol.     He  was  charmed  with 


66  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

her  timid  aloofness  and  the  beauty  of  her  eyes,  that 
were  as  liquid  violets  scintillating  with  the  dewy 
sparkle  of  ecstatic  youth  and  anon  pensive  with  a 
spiritual  dreaminess  that  inflamed  his  heart  with 
blissful  desire,  and  sent  electric  thrills  pulsing  from 
heart  to  brain. 

When  the  meal  was  ended  and  he  had  been  con- 
ducted to  the  parlor,  where  he  sat  in  company  with 
Donald  and  Jean,  Ruth's  absence  worried  and  de- 
pressed him  unreasonably.  To  divert  his  thoughts 
of  her,  he  studied  the  appointments  of  the  room,  and 
he  was  much  impressed  by  the  portrait  of  a  young 
Highlander,  picturesque,  blonde  and  gay,  wearing, 
with  dashing  air,  the  "Lincoln  green  and  the  tartan 
plaidie,  the  plumed  bonnet,"  and  irrepressible  ring- 
lets touching  his  shoulders  lightly,  flightily,  as  he 
seemed  to  be  studying  Philip  with  critical  sang 
froid  and  snobbish  contempt. 

It  might  have  been  the  undulating  glass  pendants 
which  fringed  the  fixtures  of  the  elaborate  chan- 
delier, or  the  swaying  of  the  filmy  lace  curtains  at 
the  four  tall  windows,  that  at  intervals  he  appeared 
to  wink  and  grimace  at  him,  as  he  sat  formally 
erect,  although  sinking  deeply  into  the  yielding  seat 
of  a  very  sleek  horsehair  rocking-chair. 

At  such  moments,  Philip  withdrew  his  eyes  from 
the  tantalizing  portrait  that  he  was  scanning  for 
some  trace  in  its  Old  World  lineaments  of  Ruth's 
perfect  features ;  for  he  was  convinced  that  it  was 
an  ancestor. 

He  was  monosyllabic  and  almost  silent  with  the 
speculative  thoughts,  the  room  and  the  absence  of 
Ruth  evoked.    He  was  such  a  stranger  to  his  present 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  (il 

environment,  he  felt  as  if  glimpsing  one  when  he 
glanced  at  his  reflection  in  the  huge  mirror  over- 
topping the  marble  mantel. 

Finally,  Donald  arose  and  went  in  search  of  Ruth. 
He  found  her  on  the  veranda,  bathed  in  a  silvery 
shaft  of  moonlight,  which  poured  through  a  cleft  in 
a  bank  of  tall  ferns  and  palms.  The  fragrant  gloom 
of  the  dewy  night  had  enamored  her,  and  she  started 
violently  as  he  approached. 

'Tt  is  like  a  funeral  in  the  parlor,  Ruth ;  come  in 
and  play  for  us,"  he  said,  persuasively.  Ruth 
smiled,  but  remained  seated. 

"Oh,  do  come !"  he  insisted  more  entreatingly. 

"I  had  rather  not,  Donald,"  she  answered, 
evasively.    "Aunt  Jean  will  play  for  you." 

"No,  you  must  come,"  he  persisted.  "Phillips  will 
appreciate  it  so  much." 

She  arose  then,  and  placed  her  hand  upon/his  arm 
to  impress  the  objection  she  was  about  to  confide 
to  him. 

"Tell  me  truly,  Donald,  do  you  think  I  am 
capable  of  amusing  or  entertaining  anyone  who  has 
seen  and  heard  as  much  as  Mr.  Phillips,  who  has 
spent  his  life  in  the  gay  world  of  men  and  women, 
while  I  have  known  only  the  forest  and  a  few 
friends  who  live  most  sedately?" 

Donald  laughed  discreditingly  and  seized  her  hand 
to  lead  her  into  the  parlor.    She  held  back  firmly. 

"You  know  I  am  ignorant,  Donald,  and  have  no 
more  experience  of  the  world  than  if  I  had  been 
reared  in  a  convent ;  you  said  that  to  Aunt  Jean  only 
last  evening;  so  please  excuse  me,  and  I  will  go  to 
my  room  like  a  sensible  child,  and  leave  the  enter- 


68  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

tainment  of  guests  to  my  elders,"  she  pleaded 
earnestly. 

"Oh,  what  a  precocious  child  it  is !"  Donald  ex- 
claimed derisively.  "Knows  when  it  should  go  to 
its  room,  efface  itself  and  subdue  curiosity." 

She  drew  her  hand  from  his,  gently,  but  firmly. 

"You  are  quite  capable  of  entertaining  Phillips," 
Donald  assured  her,  with  a  cynicism  for  which  he 
instantly  despised  himself;  the  next  moment  he  was 
gentle  and  penitent.  "I  would  tell  you  if  you  were 
not.  I  have  seen  something  of  the  world  also,  and 
I  am  sincerely  your  friend  and  would  not  flatter  you 
vainly." 

She  went  with  him  then,  and  he  smiled  critically 
when  she  entered  with  a  conscious  poise  of  her  head 
and  a  stately  step  quite  foreign  to  her  usually  girlish 
behavior. 

Bravely  she  seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  placed 
her  music  when  Donald  had  opened  the  instrument. 
It  was  a  "grand,"  a  costly  gift  to  Jean  when  she  was 
almost  as  young  as  her  timid  niece.  It  fronted  the 
two  eastern  windows,  and  asserted  itself  prom- 
inently, evincing  thus  the  esteem  it  had  commanded 
from  the  music-loving  household;  that  it  was  a 
much-appreciated  object,  a  throne  upon  which  was 
pedestaled  all  the  goddesses  of  music.  In  the  evoca- 
tive depths  of  its  melodious  bosom,  Caliope,  Mel- 
phomene,  Polymnia,  Terpsichore,  Thalia  and  Urania 
abided  -actively ;  sirens  to  lead  astraying  into  Lethe, 
burdens  of  care  it  were  not  wise  to  harbor  on  a 
weary  mind  which  preferred  to  glow  with  idealistic 
emotions. 

Although  Ruth  avoided  the  glances  of  the  stranger 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  69 

to  the  home  circle,  she  was  distressingly  aware  of 
his  furtive  espionage  and  intense  alertness,  veiled  by 
an  affable  demeanor  toward  Jean. 

Her  cheeks  burned  and  her  pulses  throbbed  with 
an  unfamiliar  embarrassment  and  acute  conscious- 
ness of  his  fascinating  personality.  When  her  fingers 
evoked  a  prelude  to  one  of  Mendelssohn's  composi- 
tions, she  found  composure  in  its  exulting,  uplifting 
chords ;  and  for  an  hour  she  played  unweariedly. 
She  had  been  well  trained  in  music,  and  she  chose 
the  most  ponderous  in  her  repertoire  of  classical 
selections.  The  intricate  and  soul-inspiring  cre- 
ations of  Listz,  of  Schuman,  and  other  divinely 
inspired  artists. 

She  was  fatigued  and  listless  when  at  last  Donald 
permitted  her  to  leave  the  instrument.  She  escaped 
to  the  veranda  and  bathed  her  burning  cheeks  in  the 
cool  foliage  of  the  potted  plants  yet  limpid  from 
their  vesper  sprinkling. 

From  that  retreat,  she  heard  Jean  at  the  piano  and 
Donald  piping  his  wild  airs  on  the  flute.  An  ominous 
silence  was  broken  by  Jean's  experimenting  dancing 
measures ;  ^nd  Donald  appeared  in  the  doorway, 
searching  the  shadows  to  find  her.  He  called  im- 
peratively:  "You  are  wanted  in  the  parlor,  Ruth!" 
and  retreated  ere  she  could  reply. 

As  she  entered  the  room,  in  response  to  his  sum- 
mons, he  seized  her  hand  and  his  feet  began  marking 
time  with  the  music,  which  throbbed  rhythmic  meas- 
ures to  set  his  feet  twinkling  merrily. 

Ruth  tried  to  resist  dancing  with  him  and  her  eyes 
sought  Jean  appealingly ;  but  Jean  enjoyed  a  romp 
and  the  exuberant  spirits  of  youth.     Often  in  the 


70  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

past  winter,  to  enliven  long  evenings  gloomed  with 
depressing  weather,  she  had  played  for  Donald  and 
Ruth  to  dance  and  skip  like  care-free  children,  while 
Donald  learned  Ruth  the  various  dances  he  had  be- 
come familiar  with  in  the  dancing  schools  at  the 
University;  for  Donald  danced  enthusiastically.  It 
was  an  impulse  of  his  temperament  rather  than  a 
passion,  which  found  vent  in  the  graceful  evolutions. 
He  would  have  found  congenial  expression  in  the 
wild  abandon  of  the  Highland  Walloch,  in  which  he 
could  have  shuffled  off  in  hilarious  gayety  the  tor- 
rential exuberance  that  infrequently  surcharged  his 
studious  behavior,  by  the  sluice-way  of  a  terpsi- 
chorean  revel ;  thus  portraying  the  opposite  traits  of 
hi?  character  and  incompatible  inheritances. 

Edwin  Phillips  smilingly  retreated  to  a  position 
near  the  piano  and  viewed  their  whirling  movements 
with  amused  interest.  He  was  beyond  the  range  of 
the  cynical  eyes  of  the  painted  young  Highlander, 
whose  vision  appeared  to  embrace  with  equal 
cynicism  the  winding  figures  circling  the  restricted 
spaces  of  yielding  Brussels  carpet  which  spread  the 
floor  with  abnormal  bouquets  of  flowers  and  Arab- 
esque designs  in  weaving. 

From  waltz  to  galop,  to  schottische,  to  quickstep 
and  polka,  Jean  led  them,  tirelessly,  until  Ruth 
broke  away  from  Donald  and  fled  to  the  most 
secluded  window,  flushed  with  fatigue  and  excite- 
ment. 

Donald  barely  drew  a  panting  breath,  but  with  the 
same  gay  mien  he  posed  by  Jean  and  sang  lustily, 
with  expressive  voice,  some  topical  songs  current  in 
his  college  community  the  previous  year;  then,  with 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  71 

sentiment  and  emotion,  he  sang  "Annie  Laurie," 
"My  Home  Is  in  the  Highlands,  My  Home  Is  Not 
Here,"  "We'd  Better  Bide  Awee,"  and  "The  Blue 
Bells  of  Scotland."  Finally,  in  compliment  to  his 
guest,  he  sang  "Ho,  for  Carolina,"  and  "The  Old 
North  State  Forever." 

When  he  ceased  to  sing,  Edwin  declared  the 
necessity  of  his  taking  leave,  and  Donald  went  in 
search  of  Tony,  the  stable  boy,  as  Jean  left  the  room 
to  prepare  a  hamper  for  Jennie  and  her  children. 

Ruth,  leaning  from  the  distant  window,  enjoying 
the  mystic  spell  of  lunar  light  upon  lawn  and 
orchard,  sat  erect  and  tremulous  as  Edwin  ap- 
proached her  retreat  and  expressed  his  appreciation 
of  the  evening's  hospitality  in  complimentary 
phrases. 

His  pointedly  seeking  her,  and  the  knowledge  that 
besides  themselves  the  room  was  empty,  dismayed 
her.  She  had  purposely  screened  herself  with  the 
window  drapery,  deprecating  his  glances,  which 
puzzled  and  disturbed  her  so  unusually.  She  sat 
stiffly  upright  in  her  chair,  the  personification  of 
prim  reserve  and  formal  dignity,  as  with  downcast 
eyes  she  listened  to  his  fluent  phrases. 

"We  have  been  rather  gay  and  boisterous,  do  you 
not  think  so?"  she  deprecated  in  her  most  sedate 
voice. 

"Indeed,  no,"  he  disclaimed  with  positive  nega- 
tive. "It  has  been  a  most  perfect  and  delightful 
evening." 

"Donald  is  so  energetic  and  impulsive — at  times," 
she  explained  with  flaming  cheeks,  "but  generally  he 
is  quite  sober  in  his  behavior.    You  have  seen  him  in 


72  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

his  most  frolicsome  mood,  I  assure  you,  Mr. 
Phillips." 

Edwin  bowed  his  head,  non-committally. 

"He  reminds  me  of  some  people  Mrs.  Barnard 
knew ;  a  sect  called  Quakers,"  she  proceeded,  with 
deepening  blushes. 

He  smiled  as  he  recalled  Donald's  terpsichorean 
feats  and  musical  achievements  in  comparison  with 
the  saintly  and  subdued  demeanor  proverbially 
ascribed  to  the  Society  of  Friends. 

"He  is  so  impulsive  in  some  of  his  moods  and  so 
quiet  in  others,"  she  said,  aghast  at  her  strange 
inanity,  as  the  reddest  of  roses  bloomed  upon  her 
cheeks  and  tears  of  a  helpless  dismay  shrouded  her 
vision  with  a  limpid  veil.  "He  is  generally  the 
quietest  person  I  ever  knew,"  she  concluded  with  an 
expiring-  effort.  Oh.  why  did  they  leave  her  as  sole 
entertainer  of  the  difficult  guest !  She  realized  the 
dreadful  task  as  excruciatingly  cruel  and  embarrass- 
ing. She  had  conversed  heedlessly ;  silence  was  too 
awful,  too  disconcerting  to  bear  for  a  moment. 

"Those  people,  you  know,  I  suppose,  move  and 
speak  at  the  dictates  of  an  influence  they  call  a 
spirit.  Did  you  ever  meet  with  any  of  them?"  she 
queried  with  wistful  desperation. 

"No,  but  I  have  known  people  who  professed  to 
have  seen  the  Myths,  personally,"  he  replied,  study- 
ing her  seriously. 

"Are  they  Myths?"  she  questioned  in  wide-eyed 
amazement. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  people  beyond  this 
vicinity?"  he  counter-questioned,  earnestly. 

"No,  or  at  least,  hardly  anything.     I  have  been 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  73 

with  Aunt  Jean  when  she  has  gone  to  visit  her 
Archie's  people  beyond  the  State  and  county  line. 
You  might  think  the  distance  quite  insignificant,  but 
to  me  it  seemed  great ;  a  few  times  I  have  gone  with 
Uncle  Angus  to  see  my  mother's  relatives.  They, 
too,  live  in  another  county,  but  those  counties  are 
very  much  like  this  vicinity,  all  pines  and  sand  and 
cotton." 

He  listened  with  keen  interest  and  regarded  her 
with  half -veiled  eyes  glowing  with  admiration. 

"I  should  enjoy  seeing  a  country  where  great 
forests  were  like  the  woods  down  by  'Loch-Lily,'  " 
she  concluded,  hardily. 

The  dreaded  silence  fell,  ominously ;  she  breathed 
upon  its  turbulent  repose,  a  tremulously  gasped  sigh 
of  helplessness;  she  fluttered  in  ignominious  defeat 
in  conversational  effort.  She  leaned  upon  the  low 
window  sill  that  the  night  breeze  might  fan  her  with 
its  perfumed  breath;  she  was  so  warm  and  uncom- 
fortable. It  toyed  with  her  flowing  hair  and  threw 
a  few  of  its  golden  strands  upon  his  shoulders  as  he, 
too,  leaned  forward  and  found  interest  in  the  land- 
scape swept  with  lunar  radiance. 

"Some  day  you  will  see  things  you  desire  to  view, 
but  you  will  not  be  more  blessed  or  happier,"  he 
prophesied ;  and  his  tone  was  tinged  with  sadness. 

In  the  silence  she  was  incapable  of  ending  other 
tears  than  the  limpid  mist  of  nervousness  were 
clamoring  at  the  bulwark  of  her  composure  with 
strangling  sensations. 

He  bent  his  head  low  and  smiled  with  infinite 
pathos,  as  his  eyes  probed  deep  into  her  heart  and 


74  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

emotions.  "In  seeing  you,"  he  affirmed,  "all  worlds 
are  discovered." 

Footsteps  approached,  accompanied  by  a  silken 
rustle.  He  stood  erect  and  met  Jean  with  a  smile 
as  she  entered.  "I  will  now  say  good  night,  Mrs. 
MacEarchan,"  he  said,  with  formal  effusiveness.  "I 
extend  sincere  thanks  for  a  very  pleasant  evening." 
He  bowed,  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  included 
Ruth  in  the  parting. 

"Such  a  nice  young  man !"  Jean  declared  when  he 
had  gone  and  his  voice  could  be  heard  hailing 
Donald  at  the  distant  gate.  "Such  a  very  nice  young 
man,"  she  repeated  as  she  moved  to  an  open  window 
to  view  his  departure ;  and  Ruth  escaped  from  the 
room  unobserved. 

As  Edwin  drove  along  the  white  sanded  way  to 
the  camp,  spanning  bright  spaces  and  shadows  alter- 
nately, he  reviewed  the  events  of  the  evening  with 
concern.  In  doing  so,  the  memory  of  a  play  he  had 
witnessed  many  years  previously  intruded  upon  his 
thoughts.  The  play  had  been  "Pygmalion  and  Gala- 
tea," and  the  heroine's  artless  assertion  of  having 
been  born  yesterday  he  applied,  consonantly,  it 
seemed  to  him,  to  Ruth's  innocence  and  inexperi- 
ence. 

Ruth,  kneeling  by  her  bed,  essayed  vainly  to 
formulate  an  evening  petition ;  instead,  she  buried 
her  hot  face  in  the  cool  depths  of  the  white  bed  and 
sobbed  tempestuously.  She  smothered  her  secret 
sorrow,  lest  Jean  should  hear  and  come  to  investi- 
gate the  heartbroken  weeping ;  and  she  knew  no  ex- 
planation of  her  hysterical  behavior.  Jean  went 
smiling    and    peaceful    to    a    grateful    repose    and 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  75 

dreamless  slumber.  It  had  been  a  charming 
day  and  a  lovely  evening,  and  her  emotions  were  un- 
usually elate  and  pleasant. 

Donald  found  thorns  bristling  his  pillow  and  rest 
a  farce  mocked  by  restlessness.  His  important 
future  and  illimitable  ambitions  afforded  no  food  for 
his  turbulent  reveries  as  the  night  rolled  ponderously 
its  dragging  cycle. 


CHAPTER  VH. 

Kissic-Dale's    Roses — Where    the    Brook    and 
River  Meet — Donald's  Departure. 

"I  was  in  the  lane 

On  a  day  when  Love  came  by, 
And  was  fain 
To  elude  him,  but  the  pain 

Of  his  pleadings  made  me  sigh. 
Who  is  he? 

"VWien  I  met  him  I  was  free. 
Now  I  tremble,  all  afraid.     .  ." 

— Selected. 

Saturday  afternoon,  a  week  later  than  the  date  of 
Jean's  Alay-day  outing,  the  month  stood  crowned  as 
if  for  an  annual  festival  in  reverence  to  the  goddess 
Flora,"  whose  flower-petalled  sandals  must  press 
full-blown  blossoms. 

At  Kissic-Dale.  roses  were  blooming  in  extrava- 
gant profusion.  They  embowered  trellises,  climbed 
the  trees,  wreathed  the  fences  and  covered  great, 


7(i  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

clipped  bushes  which  adorned  the  verdant  lawn ;  in 
those  initial  days  of  their  carnival  time  they  gener- 
ously flaunted  to  the  flaming  sunlight  their  luscious 
color  and  clouds  of  perfume.  From  the  windows  of 
the  mansion  and  the  shaded  expanse  of  broad 
verandas,  they  met  the  vision  as  a  "garden  of 
Paradise." 

Withal,  though,  they  were  confronted  with  many 
formidable  rivals.  Approaches  to  some  of  the  trel- 
lised  pagodas  and  embowered  garden  seats  were 
sanded  white  lanes,  hedged  by  waxy,  inefTably  fra- 
grant Cape  jessamine;  and  hedges  of  syringas  and 
Sweet  Betsey  bushes  shut  off  the  view  of  the  vege- 
table garden  and  the  poultry  quarters  in  one  direc- 
tion. Tall  spruce  pines  and  evergreens  posed  monu- 
mentally upon  the  lawn,  and  shining-leaved  mag- 
nolias, whose  upper  branches  nodded  to  one  peer- 
ing from  the  restful  seclusion  of  the  second  story 
verandas. 

The  noon  hours  brooded  languorously,  and  a 
throbbing,  white  sun  poised  deliberately  m  the 
sky,  as  if  loath  to  pass  from,  the  scenes  Summer  had 
decked  so  lavishly;  and  it  dallied  tardily  in  the  illim- 
itable spaces  between  the  sapphire  heavens  and  the 
emerald  earth,  beaming  in  torridical  felicity. 

From  abrood,  out  in  the  glowing  radiance  of  the 
bright  day,  the  family  at  Kissic-Dale  was  invisible; 
but  there  was  girlish  mirth  and  a  murmur  of  voices, 
first  in  Ruth's  room,  west  of  the  parlor,  whose  win- 
dows overlooked  an  old-fashioned  rear  lawn,  and 
the  rose  garden,  where  magnolias  flourished  phe- 
nomenally and  standard  roses  were  cultivated  with 
patience  and  skill  that  ensured  success.     Anon,  the 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  77 

voices  migrated  to  the  parlor,  whose  windows  were       / 
open  to  admit  the  scented  breeze,  which  swept  in 
from  the  redolent  surroundings. 

Jean  came  out  into  the  hall  and  glanced  up  the 
broad  stairway.  "Donald,  will  you  not  came  down 
for  a  moment  ?"  she  called. 

Donald  responded  by  descending  the  stairway,  his 
gray  eyes  clouded  with  introspective  thought. 

Jean  rebuked  his  absent-minded  acquiescence,  his 
mechanical  obedience  and  haste. 

'  Studying  at  mid-day  in  this  warm,  enervatmg 
weather,  Donald?" 

''Yes,"  he  admitted  with  a  deprecatory  smile. 
"Better  that  than  to  be  asleep.  The  somnolence  of 
the  day  demands  something  to  keep  one  awake,  do 
you  not  think  so?" 

'And  I  have  disturbed  you  for  such  a  vain  thing, 
pel  haps,"  Jean  said,  leading  the  way  into  the  parlor. 

'Oh,  that  is  all  right !"  he  returned  genially.  "We 
are  going  fishing  anyway,  are  we  not?" 

"When  it  is  a  mite  cooler,  but  I — er — I  wished  to 
consult  you  in  regard  to  Ruth's  new  dresses,"  Jean 
explained. 

'■'Ruth's  dresses?"  he  queried,  bashfully. 

"Yes,"  Jean  farther  explained,  as  she  entered  the 
parlor.  "It  is  the  box  of  dresses  that  came  yester- 
day. I  employed  Mrs.  Barnard  to  select  them  for 
her.  You  know  her  taste  is  good,  generally,  but — 
but  behold  the  selection !"  Jean  spread  her  hands 
ruefully.  "I  sent  her  Ruth's  latest  photograph  and 
her  exact  measure ;  I  also  mentioned  Ruth's  extraor- 
dinary growth  the  past  year,  for  I  was  afraid  she 


78  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

would  not  realize  her  height  and  the  dresses  would 
be  too  short — but  I  did  not  bargain  for  this !" 

Her  dismay  was  too  sincere  not  to  enlist  his  in- 
terest. Ruth  emitted  a  merry  peal  of  laughter  that 
echoed  throughout  the  halls  and  the  spacious  rooms 
as  if  the  imp  of  mirth  had  invaded  a  stately  sanc- 
tuary. Donald  leaned  against  the  door- jamb  and 
was  discreetly  non-committal.  Jean's  visible  con- 
cern and  Ruth's  irrepressible  mirth  puzzled  him  as 
much  as  Ruth's  extraordinary  appearance  astonished 
and  awed  him  into  an  uncomfortable  relation  to  his 
former  pupil. 

For  school  was  finished ;  never  again  would  they 
journey  together  to  and  from  the  white  schoolhouse 
in  the  eastern  forest ;  never  again  gather  around  the 
evening  lamp  for  study  and  instruction ;  never  again 
the  golden  days  that  had  meant  so  much  to  him,  but 
for  her  so  little,  he  was  fearful.  All  day  he  had 
been  schooling  himself,  diving  into  subjects  that 
would  re-awaken  dying  ambition  and  give  him 
strength  to  plunge  into  the  dreary  future.  From 
troubled  depths  he  forced  his  mind  to  reflect  in  what 
way  Mrs.  Barnard's  judgment  had  erred  and  to 
probe  for  Jean's  motive  in  consulting  him  on  such  a 
wildly  dense  subject  as  feminine  attire. 

Ruth  stood  flutteringly  where  she  could  view  her 
full  length  reflection  in  the  mantel  mirror.  She 
faced  herself  with  a  preening  pose,  then  turned  and 
took  a  peep  over  her  shoulder.  She  stepped  forward 
experimentally ;  a  billowy  train  followed  her  wary 
movements.  She  paused  in  statuesque  dismay, 
dimpling  and  smiling  with  the  novel  amusement  of 
wearing  a  real  train. 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  79 

"Oh,  Donald,  behold  me !"  she  cried,  with  an  as- 
sumed quiver  in  her  tones.  She  spread  her  hands 
tragically,  her  eyes  danced  gleefully.  Jean,  scanning 
her  through  polished  lenses,  sighed  profoundly. 

And  Donald  beheld,  silently,  her  sylph-like  form 
arrayed  in  a  diaphanous  raiment  which  swept  the 
floor  with  cascades  of  airy  flounces.  An  elaborate 
corsage  and  lace-befrilled  sleeves,  completed  a  toilet 
of  festive  or  formal  appearance  that  accentuated 
the  height  and  litheness  of  her  slender  figure  then  in 
the  transitory  stage  of  rapid  growth,  peculiar  to  her 
years. 

Her  shining  hair  done  a  la  mode  Psyche,  also  as- 
sisted the  delusion  of  stateliness  and  astonished 
Donald  in  greater  degree  than  the  costume's  trans- 
figuring influence,  and  he  gloomed  speechlessly  in 
the  doorway. 

"Could  you  not  give  me  some  ideas  in  regard  to 
the  management  of  a  train?"  she  appealed  to  him, 
gaily.  "It  is  a  mystery  to  me  how  anyone  carries 
about  with  them  such  an  ungainly  quantity  of  ma- 
terial." She  moved  her  feet  painstakingly,  preening 
her  head  to  note  the  undulations  of  the  courtly 
train. 

"I  am  really  afraid,  Auntie,  I  shall  be  a  living, 
practical  illustration  of  the  proverb  you  used  to 
write  in  my  copy-books ;  you  remember,  dearie, 
'Pride  goes  before  a  fall.'  Oh,  how  many  times  I 
have  written  that  sentence,  never  dreaming  that 
some  day  I  should  be  an  object  lesson  for  the  moral 
it  taught  so  persistently." 

Jean  solemnly  ignored  her  gay  persiflage.  "You 
will  certainly  have  to  be  more  careful  in  your  move- 


80  A    DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

ments  when  you  wear  those  dresses,"  she  said,  posi- 
tively. "Trains  must  be  very  fashionable  now ;  I 
told  Mrs.  Barnard  to  select  the  latest  styles.  You 
know  your  uncle  wishes  you  to  be  up  to  date  in  style 
of  dress,  but  these,  it  seems  to  me,  are  extreme  in 
the  matter  of  length,  do  you  not  think  so,  Donald  ?" 

"There  are  an  even  half  dozen  of  them,"  Ruth 
said,  with  sighing  implicitness,  but  her  dancing  eyes 
evinced  duplicity.  "Such  pretty  dresses,  too;  too 
pretty  for  the  country  and  such  a  young  girl,  don't 
you  think  so,  Donald  ?" 

Donald  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  floor  that  he  had 
appeared  to  be  studying.  Bravely  he  faced  the 
radiant  vision  of  Ruth,  which  dazzled  him  with  its 
overmastering  charm ;  then  he  spoke  indifferently : 
"I  am  rather  obtuse  on  feminine  styles  of  dress,  but 
it  strikes  me  that  such  toilets  are  designed  for  special 
functions." 

"Oh,  Donald  !  And  did  the  pretty  girls  you  danced 
with  at  those  balls  wear  dresses  such  as  this?"  Ruth 
questioned  with  the  first  serious  word  she  had 
uttered.  "No  wonder  you  are  so  fond  of  dancing! 
How  it  must  have  bored  you  to  dance  with  me  last 
Winter,  after  those  fine  times  with  the  girls  you 
must  have  admired,  or  at  least  their  dresses.  I  think 
this  very  pretty,  indeed,  if  it  was  worn  by  a  grown- 
up girl." 

"You  must  wear  them,  anyway,"  Jean  said 
musingly.  "We  are  so  far  from  everything,  and 
they  are  here  and  ready  made,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
cost  and  trouble  of  acquiring  them.  I  am  sorry  you 
have  no  present  occasion  for  such  artistic  costum- 
ing, but  you  can  wear  them  for  your  own  advantage 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  81 

in  culture  and  for  the  pleasure  and  uplifting  of  the 
home ;  here  at  least  we  all  will  admire  your  grandeur 
and  bask  in  its  refulgence." 

She  bent  her  spectacled  gaze  upon  the  dress.  "It 
is  French  organdy,  a  very  beautiful  material,  but 
very  fragile,"  she  concluded  critically. 

"Dear  Auntie,"  Ruth  said,  in  her  gentlest,  most 
caressing  manner,  "I  appreciate  the  nice  things  im- 
mensely, although  they  must  be  rather  premature  for 
a  girl  like  me,  are  they  not,  dearie  ?  I  shall  feel  that 
I  am  aping  grown-up  people,  but  you  will  under- 
stand, and  I  will  explain  to  Alama's  people."  She 
smiled  encouragingly;  the  dresses  had  been  a  real 
shock  to  their  Puritanical  and  conservative  way  of 
regarding  dress. 

On  the  way  to  Loch-Lily,  where  Donald  was  to 
gratify  an  expressed  desire  to  angle  before  leaving 
Kissic-Dale,  he  said  to  Jean,  keeping  his  eyes  strictly 
upon  the  distance : 

"Let  Ruth  go  with  me  to  Commencement  ?  There 
she  will  have  full  opportunity  to  wear  her  dresses, 
and  I  can  arrange  the  trip  nicely,  ^hs.  Gorman,  the 
w^ife  of  my  favorite  professor,  would  be  delighted 
to  receive  Ruth  and  chaperon  her  to  the  different 
functions,  where  she  w^ould  be  immensely  admired, 
I  am  sure." 

The  color  deepened  painfully  on  his  fair  counten- 
ance as  he  queried :  "Do  you  realize  that  she  is  ex- 
tremely beautiful  and  is  wasting  her  charms  on 
desert  air?" 

"At  times  I  do,  Donald,"  Jean  replied,  as  if  she 
regretted  the  dower  of  charms  bestowed  upon  her 
beloved  charge.    "And  because  she  is  so  innocent  of 


82  A    DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

the  fact,  and  so  inexperienced,  I  cannot  let  her  go 
to  Commencement,  much  as  I  appreciate  your  kind- 
ness in  proposing  the  pleasure  for  my  desolate,  little 
bairnie,"  she  concluded,  gratefully. 

"You  should  put  her  in  college,  at  once,"  Donald 
said  harshly,  "and  let  her  know  the  world  and  be 
capable  of  judging  for  herself.  As  it  is,  though  a 
great  girl,  almost  grown,  she  is  more  ignorant  of 
some  things  than  many  infants  of  ten  years  of  age! 
How  old  did  you  say  she  was  ?" 

Jean  had  not  said  a  word  relative  to  Ruth's  age, 
but  she  answered  meekly,  feeling  the  friendly  re- 
proach :  "Seventeen  next  October.  Oh,  when  did 
she  attain  all  those  years?  It  seems  but  yesterday 
she  was  such  a  tiny,  fairy-like  baby  girl." 

Jean  sighed  regretfully  and  followed  Donald 
through  the  turnstile.  Iphogenia  and  Mary  Graham 
had  outdistanced  them  so  far  as  to  be  invisible  in 
the  brush.  Jean  quickened  her  steps,  but  Donald 
walked  deliberately,  and  as  deliberately  entreated 
her:  "You  should  send  Ruth  to  college." 

"Oh,  but  she  will  not  go !"  Jean  declared,  with  a 
note  of  triumph. 

"You  should  induce  her  to  do  so,"  he  insisted, 
sternly. 

"Yes,  but  not  this  year,  Donald.  It  seems  that  I 
could  not  bear  the  parting  just  now.  She  is  all  I 
have,  you  know." 

She  was  so  touched,  he  desisted,  with  a  frown  of 
gloom  and  fell  silent,  moodily  reticent,  his  lips 
pressed  firmly,  pathetically. 

Ruth,  left  alone,  changed  her  dress,  replacing  the 
white  gown  with  a  sweet  thing  in  colored  organdy, 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  83 

which  SO  charmed  her  she  ran  down  the  veranda  to 
Dicey,  who  was  baking  in  the  kitchen.  Dicey  was 
properly  amazed  and  compHmentary. 

"Shore,  it  is  a  purty  thing,  but  ain't  it  mighty 
long?  Seems  like  you  be  gwine  step  right  on  de 
carpet,"  she  commented  with  grunts  and  sighs. 

Ruth  laughed  merrily,  not  having  the  slightest 
conception  of  the  meaning  of  Dicey's  remarks.  She 
enjoyed  the  dress  from  an  artistic  standpoint 
acutely ;  the  colors  blended  so  harmoniously ;  it  was 
a  sheer  organdy,  with  a  purplish  gray  ground, 
spangled  with  large  pinkish  flowers,  and  she  had 
enhanced  its  quaint  loveliness  by  encircling  her  waist 
with  a  broad  pink  sash  and  fastening  a  butterfly  bow 
of  pink  ribbon  in  the  bright  coils  of  her  hair.  She 
noted  the  physical  details  of  pink  cheeks  and 
purplish  eyes  and  the  rich  touch  attained  from  the 
golden  sheen  of  her  hair,  and  folded  each  into  a 
musing  scheme  of  color  which  pleased  her  artistic 
taste  in  that  no  harsh  note  was  visible  in  her  entire 
appearance. 

When  she  had  exhausted  interest  in  the  new  finery 
she  tried  some  music  Mrs.  Barnard  had  enclosed  in 
the  box.  She  had  declined  the  trip  to  Loch  Lily  for 
that  especial  purpose,  never  divining  that  in  abiding 
at  home  she  had  wounded  Donald  keenly.  For  more 
than  an  hour  she  explored  the  eloquent  pages  by 
sight  and  sound,  gleaning  the  choicest  bits  of  senti- 
ment and  melody. 

She  left  the  piano  finally,  and  sat  in  the  window 
opening  upon  the  veranda,  listlessly  viewing  with 
appreciative  but  calm  vision  the  familiar  splendor 
of    Summer's    magnificence;    but    the    roses    had 


84  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

bloomed  just  as  gorgeously  every  year  of  her  care- 
free life,  the  magnolias  had  been  emblazoned  with 
the  great  petalled  blossoms,  the  Sweet  Betseys,  just 
as  faintingly  sweet,  the  grass  as  green  and  velvety, 
the  potted  palms  as  stately  and  tropical.  She  had 
never  seen  any  place  more  pretentious  than  her 
home,  she  held  no  unsatisfied  longings  or  aspira- 
tions. 

The  slumberous  afternoon  was  restfully  quiet ;  no 
one  moved  about  the  house.  Leo  slept  upon  the 
veranda  steps.  Dicey,  in  the  distance,  droned  a  hymn 
as  she  proceeded  with  her  cooking  for  the  ensuing 
Sabbath.  The  unusual  quietude  was  impressive ;  it 
seemed  a  material  quality,  clasping  in  its  couchant 
thrall,  the  dozing  and  absent  life  wont  to  echo  in 
the  silent  spaces.  The  pigeons  smote  its  resonant 
surface  with  silvery  whiffings  of  their  white  and 
dove-gray  wings,  the  clock  in  the  hall  accentuated 
its  reign  with  emphatic  strokes  of  its  ponderous 
pendulum,  and  Ruth  sat  a  long  while  in  a  motionless 
attitude. 

At  last  she  stirred  restively  and  centered  her  gaze 
beyond  the  tree-shadowed  lawn,  where  the  world 
basked  in  a  flaming  effulgence  of  mid-afternoon  sun- 
light. Thus  until  the  silence  and  the  sibilant  somno- 
lence was  cleft  by  a  riternello,  clear-toned  in  its 
warbling,  trilling,  bubbling  challenge  to  the  warmth 
and  peace  of  the  Summertide  upon  which  was  flung 
in  musical  rills  a  bursting  heart  of  liquid  melody. 
Ruth  sprang  up,  joyously  alert,  her  heart  athrill  with 
glad  welcome,  her  eyes  searching  the  pyramidal 
magnolias. 

"He  had  come  again !     The  dear,  darling  little 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  85 

songster,  the  embodiment  of  the  joy  and  enchant- 
ment of  the  beauteous  Summer  da}^!" 

But  was  it  the  same  ?  "There  are  no  birds  in  last 
year's  nest,"  Jean  had  written,  also,  in  her  copy-  y 
books.  It  sang  so  much  as  he  had  done,  but  would 
he  sing  those  same  fresh,  vibrant  notes  two  seasons 
in  succession  ?  Had  he  weathered  storms  and  stress 
of  existence  to  return  in  all  his  pristine  joyousness? 
What  a  pean  of  praise  and  alleluia  of  thanksgiving 
had  been  his  salutation  of  blossom  and  sunshine,  of 
warmth  and  fragrance,  which  charmed  for  a  moment 
his  exuberant  fancy ! 

Ruth's  fancy  soon  turned  again  to  musical  meas- 
ures, and,  resuming  her  seat  at  the  piano,  she  played 
Hungarian  dances  and  tripping  melodies  as  blithely 
a  sthe  mocking-bird  had  sung  in  the  magnolia. 

Someone  hailed  her  at  the  open  window.  She 
glanced  over  her  shoulder  a  startled  inquiry  into 
the  sound  of  a  voice  and  met  the  smiling  greeting  of 
Edwin  Phillips. 

"Did  I  frighten  you?  I  am  sorry,  but  I  could 
attract  no  attention  otherwise." 

She  arose,  diffident  and  blushing,  and  greeted  him 
with  evident  constraint. 

"I  called  to  bid  Mr.  ]\IacKethan  farewell.  He 
leaves  to-morrow,  does  he  not  ?"  he  explained,  stand- 
ing aloof  from  the  window,  bare-headed  and  hand- 
some. 

"Yes.  in  the  morning."  she  replied  in  a  lowered 
voice,  denoting  her  timidity.  She  resumed  her  seat 
on  the  piano  stool ;  she  dared  not  move  to  any  other 
position.  She  could  laugh  and  pose  in  trailing  gar- 
ments and  display  the  mature  arrangement  of  her 


86  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

hair  in  the  presence  of  the  household,  but  facing  a 
stranger  so  attired,  robbed  her  of  all  composure  and 
presence  of  mind  for  the  moment. 

"May  I  not  wait  for  Mr.  MacKethan?"  he  sug- 
gested, tentatively. 

She  arose  again,  convicted  of  unpardonable  rude- 
ness. The  voluminous  folds  of  her  lengthy  skirts 
twined  about  her,  impedingly. 

"Will  you  come  in  and  be  seated?"  she  managed 
to  articulate,  blushing  furiously.  He  stepped  across 
the  low  window-sill  and  entered  the  parlor.  Then 
he  seated  himself  deliberately  quite  near  the  window. 

"Donald  is  down  at  Loch-Lily,  fishing ;  so  is  Aunt 
Jean  and  Mary,"  she  informed  him,  and  hoped  he 
would  propose  joining  them. 

"I  wish  them  luck.  It  is  a  fine  day  for  such  sport," 
he  responded  formally. 

With  supreme  efl:ort  she  continued  to  converse, 
spasmodically.  She  asked  for  news  of  Mrs.  Ste- 
phenson and  the  children,  and  quizzed  him  in  regard 
to  the  flora  in  the  forests  he  rode  over  daily. 

He  was  politely  responsive,  but  withal  there  fell 
speechless  periods,  in  which  her  mind  seethed  with 
bashful  confusion  and  her  self-consciousness  be- 
came a  poignant  pain. 

That  his  melting  glances  mirrored  passions  hith- 
erto a  stranger  to  her  youth  she  realized  vaguely, 
but  she  did  not  assign  them  to  the  sublime  category 
of  Love,  as  pictured  in  the  romances  she  had  read 
with  the  credulous  wonder  with  which  she  had  re- 
ceived the  improbable  myths  of  the  gods.  To  grasp 
such  a  transcendental  emotion  and  embody  it  in  the 
familiar    atmosphere    of    Kissic-Dale    would    have 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  87 

seemed  to  her  guileless  intuition  a  blasphemous  sac- 
rilege. 

"Suppose  we  have  some  music  or  go  out  among 
the  roses  ?"  he  requested  finally,  when  her  constraint 
and  evident  discomfort  could  no  longer  be  hidden 
by  their  desultory  remarks. 

She  drooped  her  eyes  secretively,  her  dark  lashes 
sweeping  her  scorching  cheeks.  The  climax  of  her 
woes  had  fallen  mercilessly  upon  her. 

"What  is  troubling  you?"  he  queried  solicitously. 
"Had  you  rather  that  I  did  not  wait  for  Alac- 
Kethan  ?" 

"Oh,  no !  You  must  wait !  He  would  be  so  dis- 
appointed. I— I — will  show  you  the  roses  if  you 
will  let  me  explain.  Do  you  observe  that  I  do  not 
appear  natural  ?  Would  you  believe  that  I  am  wear- 
ing my  own  dress?"  she  appealed,  desperately.  He 
smiled,  as  if  some  hidden  knowledge  elated  him. 

"I  refuse  to  commit  myself  upon  the  subject 
farther  than  to  say  I  think  you  very  charming,  and 
all  that  one  could  desire  in  loveliness  and  appear- 
ance." 

"You  do  not  say  that  in  sincerity,  for  you  know 
I  am  a  fright  and  am  childishly  aping  a  grown-up 
person,"  she  said  reproachfully.  He  bore  the  re- 
proach so  meekly  she  was  touched  with  a  sudden  re- 
pentance. 

"I  must  explain,"  she  persisted,  "why  I  look  so 
ridiculous." 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  repressed  amuse- 
ment; and  she  related  the  true  story  of  the  box  of 
much-needed  dresses  which  had  proven  so  discon- 
certing to  Jean.  Her  eyes  sparkled  with  tears  of 
nervousness. 


88  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

"It  was  fun,  though,  before  you  came;  now  it 
seems  so  ridiculous  wearing  this  awful  dress,"  she 
remarked  with  a  bit  of  her  quaintly  precocious  wis- 
dom that  he  had  found  so  irresistible. 

"Get  your  hat  and  show  me  the  flowers,"  he  com- 
manded, with  a  voice  blended  in  caress  and  persua- 
sion. She  arose  then,  and  choosing  her  steps  with 
care,  shrank,  mentally,  into  a  wisp,  as  she  swept  out 
of  the  room,  the  coquettish  train  swishing  upon  the 
carpet  with  defiant  frou-frou. 

"Do  you  know  that  Dicey  says  I  look  as  if  I  was 
stepping  upon  a  carpet,  dressed  in  this  fashion," 
Ruth  said  to  him  as  they  descended  to  the  lawn. 

"Did  Dicey  say  that,  sure?  What  did  she  mean 
by  such  a  remark?"  he  quizzed  her,  his  eyes  dancing 
with  amusement. 

"I  do  not  know,  I  am  sure.  It  was  one  of  her 
figurative  speeches,  I  suppose.  She  thought  me  so 
unfamiiliar  looking.  It  is  a  wonder  you  knew  me. 
having  seen  so  very  little  of  me,  only  once,  you 
know." 

"But  I  did  know  you  the  moment  I  found  you," 
he  said,  so  emphatically  that  she  blushed  and  led 
the  way,  primly  silent  and  timidly  bashful. 

Out  in  the  sunshine  and  the  sweet  shadows,  with 
her  toilet  explained  and  her  mind  relieved  upon  that 
point,  she  was  more  self -poised  and  reliant.  Finally, 
after  long  dallyings  by  peculiarly  interesting  shrub 
or  flower,  they  stood  by  a  little  dwarfed  pine  over- 
shadowed by  a  symmetrical  maple  tree.  The  quaint, 
sanded  path  leading  from  the  front  lawn  to  that 
locality  was  hedged  with  a  squat,  straggly  shrub, 
whose  branches  drooped,  not  ungracefully. 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  89 

"Aunt  Jean  prizes  this  spot  more  than  even  her 
rose  garden  or  any  other  place  on  the  lawn.  This  is 
her  Scotland,  her  'ain  countrie.'  This  little  pine 
came  direct  from  Scotland,  from  the  Highlands,  in 
the  lifetime  of  her  own  grandfather,  and  the  broom, 
too,  and  the  heather."  She  stroked  the  pine  and 
then  the  broom,  as  she  mentioned  their  endearing 
value. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  Scotland?  We  are 
Scotch,  as  you  may  know,  and  we  love  that  country 
dearly.  It  is  rather  cold  there,  I  infer,  for  they 
planted  this  maple  to  screen  the  pine  and  broom 
from  the  midsummer  sun.  Soon  the  broom  will  be 
in  bloom,  bearing  great  spikes  of  yellow  blossoms. 
You  might  think  them  ugly,  but  to  us  they  are 
always  beautiful,  because  they  grow  upon  the 
Scottish  moors.    Do  you  understand  ?" 

He  bowed  affirmatively,  happy  to  listen,  when  at 
last  she  had  been  induced  to  chatter.  In  the  rose 
garden  she  was  again  eloquent  in  commending  an 
old  sun-dial  and  a  dwarfish  rose-tree,  also  said  to 
have  been  imported  from  Scotland. 

He  was  so  enjhused  with  the  beauty  and  the  fra-  ;je:^ 

grance  of  the  luscious  roses,  he  induced  her  to  tarry 
indefinitely.  They  loitered  beneath  the  great  shelter- 
ing wings  of  a  tall  magnolia  and  viewed  the  western 
landscape,  which  included  the  dove-cote,  the  vine- 
yard, and  the  forest-crowned  hill,  whose  declivity 
was  covered  with  oak,  hickory  and  maple,  and  its 
crest  with  tall,  waving  pines,  whose  green-plumed 
polls  glistened  as  they  braved  the  full  glare  of  the 
westerning  sun.  As  their  acquaintance  progressed, 
she  "was  deeply  impressed  with  his  gentleness  and         K^ 


90  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

gallantry;  peculiarly  so  when  he  carefully  dis- 
entangled a  rose  spray  which  had  clutched  with 
tenacious  thorns  the  fragile  flouncing  of  her  un- 
gainly dress. 

Also  he  caressed  the  roses  so  daintily  and  held 
aloof  from  the  sensitive  magnolia  blossoms  that  a 
warm  breath  would  tarnish  irreparably.  She  was 
conscious  of  an  increasing  admiration,  and  felt  an 
uplifting  pleasure  in  his  society  which  enhanced  life, 
as  flowers  give  a  refined  note  to  the  landscape. 

They  returned  to  the  house  when  the  sun  was 
dipping  into  the  pine-cushioned  western  hills,  and 
paused  on  the  central  steps  of  the  veranda,  to  wait 
for  the  fishing  party,  then  expected,  to  return.  Ruth 
laid  aside  her  hat  and  leaned  against  a  column  rest- 
fully,  when  they  had  seated  themselves  on  the  broad 
white  steps.  He  sat  on  the  step  below  her  position, 
and  made  desultory  remarks  upon  the  weather  so 
very  perfect,  the  roses  so  lovely,  and  the  green  and 
white  semblance  of  the  remote  forest.  It  was  so 
easy  to  be  optimistic  and  happy  in  that  Edenic  en- 
vironment, arched  by  a  smiling  sky,  the  senses  lulled 
by  languorous  breezes. 

"I  have  seen  flowers  all  my  life  and  have  known 
many  pleasant  places,  but  never  such  flowers  or  such 
a  home  as  Kissic-Dale,"  he  affirmed,  breaking  a 
silence  during  which  he  had  been  thoughtful  and 
serious. 

"You  flatter  the  old  home,  surely,  but  to  me,  who 
have  always  known  and  loved  it,  it  seems  pleasant 
and  adorable,"  Ruth  rejoined  amiably.  He  fell  silent 
again,  his  thoughts  speculative,  his  heart  acutely 
sensitive  to  the  charm  of  the  secluded  domain  and 
the  beauty  of  its  youthful  heiress. 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  91 

"See !  There  comes  the  absent  ones !"  Ruth  ex- 
claimed  presently.  "They  seem  to  be  fatigued. 
Perhaps  they  had  no  luck,  after  their  heroic  courage 
in  going  down  there  this  warm  afternoon." 

Along  the  way  from  the  spring  and  the  vicinity 
below  it  came  Jean  and  Donald,  followed  by  Mary 
Graham  and  the  maid.  The  latter  bore  spoils  to 
prove  that  the  venture  had  not  been  in  vain.  They 
approached,  smiling  upon  the  handsome  couple  upon 
the  broad  steps,  and  Edwin  ran  down  to  assist  Jean's 
ascent;  but  she  sank  upon  the  lowest  step  and 
motioned  him  to  a  seat  beside  her. 

"Come  sit  with  me,  Donald,"  Ruth  invited,  as 
Donald  stood  aloof,  hesitating  whether  to  enter  by 
that  route  or  by  a  more  indirect  way  to  the  comfort 
of  the  veranda.  He  obediently  did  as  she  requested  ; 
his  lips  were  smiling,  but  the  shadow  of  a  frown 
gloomed  his  expression. 

"You  would  have  been  dc  trop  down  there ;  Aunt 
Jean  has  a  habit  of  monopolizing  Mr.  Phillips,  you 
know.  He  has  been  waiting  a  long  time,  and  once 
he  spoke  of  going  without  seeing  you,  but  he  has 
waited  to  bid  you  goodby.  It  is  so  sad  you  are 
going  away !  How  much  we  shall  miss  you,  espe- 
cially Aunt  Jean,  who  loves  company  more  than  any 
of  us.  I  am  just  beginning  to  realize  that  we  are 
to  give  you  up.  It  will  be  very  lonely  here  without 
you,  Donald." 

The  frown  deepened  on  Donald's  brow,  but  he 
said  lightly :  "You  will  survive  my  absence,  no 
doubt,"  and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  dark,  sleek  head 
of  Edwin  Phillips  exchanging  amenities  with  Jean. 
Later  he  followed  his  acquaintance  to  the  gate  and 


92  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

laid  his  arm  affectionately  about  his  shoulders  in  the 
moment  of  parting;  and  he  promised  cordially  to 
deliver  messages  to  any  acquaintance  of  Phillips  he 
might  chance  to  meet  during  the  Commencement 
season. 

He  departed  from  Kissic-Dale  quite  early  the 
next  morning  while  the  birds  were  chanting  their 
matin  songs  and  the  sun  was  sipping  mists  from  the 
hearts  of  the  roses.  He  departed  in  great  state,  amid 
the  openly  expressed  regrets  of  the  entire  household. 
David  in  his  grandest  raiment,  frock  coat  and  tall 
beaver  hat,  was  to  drive  him  to  a  distant  church, 
where  his  mother,  by  pre-arrangement,  would  meet 
him  and  convey  him  home.  He  gazed  backward 
until  a  turn  of  the  avenue  hid  from  his  clinging 
vision  Ruth,  with  streaming  eyes,  silhouetted  against 
the  summer  roses.  Then  his  head  drooped  de- 
jectedly, pain  clouded  his  sad  eyes  and  a  hungering 
despair  raged  in  his  heart  as  he  set  his  face  firmly 
up  the  lonely  heights  of  a  strenuous  future. 


BOOK  II. 


Summer. 


"So  the  blue,  blue  skies,  who  shall  boast  of  them. 

Though  fair  as  day? 
And  the  green,  green  grasses,  make  the  most  of  them. 

They  will  not  stay." 

— Selected. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  Night  in  June — The  Harvest  Moon — Cupid's 

Court. 

"There  is  no  star  that  rises  white 
To  tiptoe  down  the  deep  of  dusk. 

Sweet  as  the  moony  nymphs  of  Night, 
With  lips  of  musk.     .     .     ." 

"Oh,  my  heart's  sunrise  hope  is  sweeter  than  rest! 
Better  than  peace  is  Love!" 

"And  life  to  me  means  Love! 
And  love  means  you!      .      .      ." 

— Selected. 

June  was  languishing  in  the  last  days  of  her 
flower-crowned  reign ;  torridial  temperature  pre- 
vailed. The  fields  of  golden  grain  had  been  har- 
vested, and  the  yellow  sheafs  dotted  distant  slopes  as 
if  Ceres  had  pitched  her  tent  there  and  gathered 
around  her  an  abundance  for  distribution.  Green, 
growing  crops  clothed  the  fields,  where  young  corn 
waved  infantile  blades  and  cotton  was  acquiring  leaf 
and  foliage.  The  days  were  strenuous  with  growth, 
the  nights  prophetic  of  fruitfulness,  as  the  posy- 
crowned  month  lapsed  into  the  fervent  sway  of 
fiery-hearted  July. 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  95 

A  full  month  had  gone  by  since  Donald  had  left 
Kissic-Dale,  and  only  the  hardiest  roses  braved  the 
deepening  intensity  of  the  sun's  rays,  impregnating 
the  subject  earth  with  their  voluptuous  influence, 
impelling  to  fruition  the  tropical  white  lily,  the 
riotous  honeysuckle  and  hothouse  products  which 
had  spent  the  winter  under  glass. 

In  such  an  ardent  atmosphere,  the  most  phleg- 
matic mind  is  influenced  and  life  assumes  a  fuller 
meaning;  the  emotions  are  quickened  to  the  least 
touch  of  sentiment  and  romance. 

Ruth  had,  but  a  day  or  two  previous,  returned  in 
company  with  her  uncle,  Angus  Bethune,  from  a 
tour  of  visits  to  her  mother's  people.  She  had  en-  x 
joyed  the  visit  more  than  any  previous  one.  Her 
cousins  lived  on  large  plantations  and  were  very 
pleasant  and  prosperous  people  living  in  good  neigh- 
borhoods, populated  mostly  with  cultured  Scotch, 
who  were  very  congenial  with  each  other. 

Allen  MacRea  had  been  a  college  mate  and  life- 
long friend  of  Angus,  and  Jean,  knowing  that  he 
would  be  at  Kissic-Dale  to  meet  his  friend,  had  in- 
vited Edwin  to  supper  and  to  spend  the  evening.  She 
had  made  a  feast  in  their  honor,  and  was  thoroughly 
enjoying  having  Ruth  at  home  and  guests  that  were 
congenial. 

Her  friendship  for  Edwin  Phillips  had  flourished 
as  the  green  bay-tree  while  Ruth  was  away ;  and  she 
had  insisted  that  he  should  come  over  and  meet 
Angus  and  Allen  MacRea.  It  was  the  first  glimpse 
Edwin  had  had  of  Ruth  in  several  weeks,  and  the 
weeks  of  her  absence  had  seemed  months  of  loneli- 
ness and  suspense. 


^ 


96  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

Twilight  had  descended  gently  but  effectively ; 
rose  tints  melting  into  violet,  which  faded  into 
an  unstable  gray  mist,  that  early  resolved  into  Egyp- 
tian dusk,  when  the  stars  stood  revealed  upon  the 
stage  of  Night,  silhouetted  by  the  dark  panoply  of 
the  invisible  sky ;  great  golden  stars  flaming  with  the 
fervor  of  the  day's  caloric  atmosphere. 

'  In  the  total  eclipse  of  any  adequate  luminary, '' 
Edwin  sat  with  Jean  where  the  light  from  the  hall 
flowed  out  across  the  veranda  and  pierced  the  gloom 
beyond  its  flower-banked  spaces.  Not  alone  had  his 
persistent  visits  to  her  in  the  lonely  days  subsequent 
to  the  departure  of  Ruth  and  Donald  endeared  his 
presence,  but  far  back  in  antebellum  days  she  had 
been  a  student  at  a  famous  college  in  the  Piedmont 
Hills,  and  his  sister  had  but  recently  left  the  same 
school.  This  furnished  food  for  much  conversa- 
tion between  them,  for  he  was  familiar  with  the  dear 
old  scenes,  and  could  inform  her  of  modern  life  in 
the  places  sacred  to  her  own  gilded  youth. 

Upon  that  subject,  of  course,  Ruth  was  wholly 
ignorant,  so  she  sat  beyond  the  circle  of  light,  her 
form  dimly  outlined  in  the  semi-dusk.  She  knew 
that  it  was  a  transitory  eclipse  of  light,  that  the 
ebonized  dusk  would  give  place  later  to  a  spectacular 
moonrise,  so  when  a  silvery  light,  elusive,  indistinct, 
dawned  on  the  eastern  horizon,  she  arose  quietly  and 
slipped  away  to  the  southern  point  of  the  veranda  to 
witness,  silent  and  alone,  the  belated  appearance  of 
the  harvest  moon. 

She  found  a  seat  where  she  could  command  the 
east  with  a  clear  vision,  and  she  searched  the  faint 
glow  with  interest  as  it  gradually  brightened  until 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  97 

objects  stood  forth  from  the  shroud  of  darkness, 
dimly  revealed  as  phantoms  of  the  weird  thrall  of 
night,  aloof,  unreal  from  their  every-day  appearance. 
Soon  a  great  red  sphere  arose  boldly,  from  a  misty 
depth,  and  swung  "like  a  rick  on  fire"  above  the 
horizon. 

The  pigeons  cooed  drowsily  in  the  distant  cote ; 
sheep  bells  tinkled  in  the  remote  fold ;  the  mocking- 
birds trilled  a  slumberous  serenade  in  the  leafy 
orchard ;  the  foliage  rustled  in  the  strengthening 
zephyrs ;  the  forest  glittered  like  a  silver  sea  in  shrill- 
ing unrest  as  the  glowing  orb  poised  tentatively  and 
stared  at  the  sentient  world  stolidly  from  its  seques- 
tered realm,  expressing  its  importance  as  a  matchless 
mechanism  of  Omnipotence. 

Ruth  viewed  the  miracle  of  its  ascent  with  a  sensi- 
tive conception  of  its  celestial  origin,  its  awe-inspir- 
ing grandeur  and  effulgence ;  and  in  spirit  she  wor- 
shipped the  power  which  had  created  it  and  the  life 
of  the  world  it  irradidated  with  its  supernal  loveli- 
ness. 

A  surge  of  spirituality  uprose  in  her  heart  to  meet 
its  mysterious  enchantment ;  that  phase  of  her  soul 
which  had  so  impressed  Jean  in  her  childhood,  when 
she  had  discovered  her  lying  in  the  clover,  out  in  the 
orchard,  where  blue-bells  shrilled  their  tiny  notes 
to  her  attentive  ear  as  she  lay  dreaming  of  other 
spheres,  her  eyes  searching  the  vaulted  dome  of  the 
summer  sky,  where  fleecy  clouds  sailed  upon  the 
cerulean  deep  as  ships  upon  the  blue  main ;  and  the 
kittens  might  gambol  around  her,  the  pigeons  flutter 
above  her  all  unheeded,  as  she  dreamed  the  dreams 
she  was  then  incapable  of  interpreting. 


98  A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

Jean  had  often  speculated  as  to  what  the  final 
ideals  of  a  nature  so  attuned  might  be,  if  there  was 
an  earthly  fate  that  could  satisfy  its  desires  and  ful- 
fill its  hopes  after  so  much  probing  into  what  lay 
beyond  the  ken  of  mortal  vision  and  knowledge. 

Ruth's  mood  that  night  was  intense  in  its  longing 
for  light  upon  sublunary  subjects. 

"Standing  with  reluctant  feet,  where  the  brook 
and  river  meet,"  the  mystery  and  the  burden  of  the 
miraculous  transformation  weighed  upon  her  spirits, 
in  alternate  pain  and  pleasure,  in  blissful  welcome 
and  shrinking  reluctance.  She  was  but  dimly  con- 
scious of  the  cause  of  her  awakening  to  the  fact  that 
time  and  circumstances  were  impelling  her  into  the 
ranks  of  those  who  are  exposed  to  the  love-tipped 
darts  of  the  little  god,  Eros.  The  idea  frightened 
her,  yet  held  a  peculiar  fascination,  which  drew  her 
mind  to  constant  revery  and  analysis,  and  a  blind 
groping  for  defence  against  the  winged  enemy  to 
sane  and  dignified  behavior. 

One  family  of  cousins  had  included  Janet 
Bethune,  an  accomplished  girl,  just  graduated,  and 
more  interesting  and  wonderful,  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried the  ensuing  autumn.  Her  idyl  of  love  and 
sweet  anticipations  had  been  an  interesting  and 
puzzling  object  lesson  to  Ruth's  acquisitive  mind, 
which  discerned  the  mystic  light  irradiating  their 
lovelorn  countenances.  Furthermore,  that  cousin 
Janet  had  been  induced  to  accept  some  of  the  elab- 
orate costumes  selected  by  Mrs.  Barnard,  and  in 
return  had  summoned  her  own  dressmaker  to  con- 
struct for  Ruth  some  pretty  dresses  more  simple  and 
suited  to  the  simplicity  of  life  in  the  pine-lands; 


A     DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  99 

daintily  fashioned,  exquisitely  fitting  sheer  white 
dresses,  demi-trained  and  girlish,  which  revealed  the 
slender  height  and  willowy  grace  of  Ruth's  youthful 
form  to  perfection.  That  evening,  at  Kissic-Dale, 
she  wore  one  of  those  dresses  and  maintained  a  new 
and  interesting  manner,  the  influence  of  ideas  and 
impressions  attained  during  the  extended  visit. 

Circumstances  favored  the  full  indulgence  of  her 
personal  inclinations  and  her  mood  of  pensive  seri- 
ousness, for  Allen  MacRea  and  Angus  Bethune  w^ere 
absorbed  in  each  other,  and  recollections  of  "Auld 
lang  syne,"  and  had  early  retired  to  the  upper 
veranda  for  uninterrupted  converse  in  the  company 
of  their  pipes. 

Mary  Graham  was  a  silent  and  respectful  auditor 
to  the  conversation  Jean  led  with  Edwin,  and  Ruth 
was  free  to  indulge  in  reverie  that  was  assuming  a 
habit  with  her  in  those  days,  into  which  books  and 
study  were  not  allowed  to  intrude.  She  was  aroused 
from  her  dreaming  thoughts  by  Edwin,  who  came 
leisurely  up  the  veranda  and  found  a  seat  where  he 
could  command  a  view  of  her  features. 

"We  are  to  have  some  music,  but  Airs.  Alac- 
Earchan  will  play.  I  have  managed  that  she  should 
do  so  and  not  impose  the  task  upon  you.  The  gen- 
tlemen up  stairs  requested  music,  and  her  music  will 
please  them  more  than  yours;  men  at  their  age  are 
more  sentimental  than  critical  in  their  estimate  of 
melody." 

Ruth  listened  with  a  dreamy  attention  not  easily 
seduced  from  the  spell  cast  by  the  supreme  moon- 
ri.se  of  the  cycle  of  twelve  the  year  embraced. 

"You  had  rather  remain  out  here,  had  you  not?" 


100  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

he  questioned  tentatively,  when  her  glance  returned 
to  the  glowing  sphere  of  inane  rotundity  slowly 
climbing  zenithward.  "You  appear  interested  in  the 
moonrise." 

"It  is  too  lovely  to  be  ignored,  to  be  treated  with 
indifference,  and  I  have  a  habit  of  studying  it,"  she 
declared  gently. 

He  was  not  interested  in  the  moon,  save  as  it 
illumined  her  charms.  His  emotions  were  profound 
in  their  grateful  ecstacy,  and  he  fell  silent  to  realize 
the  bliss  of  the  moment,  while  Ruth  resumed  her 
vigil  of  the  lunar  world,  vaguely  conscious  that  his 
presence  enhanced  the  charm  of  the  scene  and  vivi- 
fied its  poetical  glamor. 

Not  aware  of  his  intense  expression,  his  enrapt 
stud}'  of  her  pose  and  countenance,  she  gazed 
wide-eyed,  dreamily  alert  into  the  mist-phantomed, 
luminous  east,  where: 

".      .      .      .     Beyond  the  tranced  shadows. 
Low-brooding  down  long  hills  and  fertile  fields, 
A  deepening  whiteness  of  pure  cloud  revealed 
An  eastern  vestal  burning  silver  bright; 

And  from  its  fires  far-fanned  with  mystic  might. 
And  voiceless,  the  enshrined  queen  concealed. 
Flung  straight  and  wide  across  the  slumbering  world, 
A  radiant  arrow  dipped  in  crystal  light     . 

So  still  lay  the  scene,  so  still !  At  intervals  the 
voice  of  Jean  and  her  guests  in  the  parlor  intruded ; 
the  lilt  of  the  mocking-birds,  the  cooings  of  the 
crowded  dove-cote,  the  shrill  bark  of  a  silly  terrier 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  101 

at  Sandy's  cottage  foolishly  baying  at  the  moon ;  and 
far  away  in  the  distant  wheat  fields,  whip-poor-wills 
threshed  their  plaintive  cries  faintly  as  the  efful- 
gence deepened,  until  the  moon  posed  effusively,  a 
globe  of  intensely  glowing,  molten  gold. 

It  poured  level  rays  straight  into  Ruth's  heeding 
eyes ;  it  shimmered  them  upon  her  bright  hair,  her 
round  throat,  and  arms  bare  to  their  elbows,  and 
over  her  white  dress,  impressing  its  mystic  touch 
on  each  detail  with  fairy  magic ;  emphasizing  her 
faultless  beauty  and  pensive  sweetness  of  ex- 
pression. 

The  sorcerous  quietude  was  finally  broken  when 
Jean  began  the  prelude  to  the  long-delayed  music; 
then  caressingly  she  evoked  the  chords  of  senti- 
mental harmonies  isolating  them  with  a  burst  of 
melody  which  pierced  the  heart  with  a  revealing 
ecstacy. 

When  Ruth  at  last  resumed  an  attentive  attitude 
toward  her  companion,  her  eyes,  dazed  by  moon- 
beams, met  his  glance  of  ardent  admiration,  and  she 
sat  erect  and  assumed  her  forgotten  dignity. 

"Shall  we  go  in  now?"  she  proposed,  wistfully. 

"No,  please;  I  prefer  the  moonlight  and  your 
company.  Nothing  else  can  afford  me  such  exquisite 
pleasure,"  he  demurred  pleadingly. 

"I  think  they  will  expect  us,"  she  faltered,  un- 
comfortably. 

"Please  remain  with  me  a  while  longer.  I  missed 
you  so  much  while  you  were  away  and  I  have  had 
so  little  opportunity  of  being  with  you.  Never  until 
then  had  time  passed  so  tardily  and  drearily !  Yet 
I  did  not  dare  to  hope  that  you  would  give  a  thought 
to  my  loneliness  or  to  myself,  for  that  matter." 


102  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

"I  did  not  know  that  you  were  lonely,"  she  said 
simply. 

"Ah,  if  you  could  only  know  how  lonely !"  he  ex- 
claimed in  a  tone  suggesting  such  depths  of  feeling 
she  was  smitten  with  an  intangible  contrition. 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  hastened  to  offer  sympathy,  "for 
I  was  having  such  a  nice  time  with  my  Uncle  Angus 
and  my  jolly  cousins." 

"How  can  I  feel  glad  that  you  had  such  a  gay 
time  the  while  I  was  so  lonely  and  miserable?"  he 
returned,  with  a  gallant  lament  that  deepened  her 
intangible  sympathy.  "I  find  it  impossible  to  realize 
any  joy  in  others  monopolizing  your  thoughts  and 
society,"  he  asserted  so  gloomily,  she  essayed  to  lead 
him  from  a  subject  so  surprisingly  burdened  with  a 
seemingly  persistent  sadness  by  aloofly  withdrawing 
from  conversation. 

Sounds  of  subdued  revelry  flowed  through  the 
open  windows  of  the  brightly  lighted  parlor.  She 
could  glimpse  the  benevolent  and  florid  visage  of  her 
bachelor  uncle  wreathed  in  smiles  and  beaming  en- 
joyment. Jean  was  singing  an  old-time  favorite 
song.  Sure  of  her  audience,  she  sang  with  unwonted 
feeling  and  expression ;  and  Ruth  gave  heed  to  the 
candid  force  of  its  sentiment  and  melody,  compell- 
ing him  to  like  behavior  while  the  music  throbbed  in 
minor  keys  and  mingled  with  the  fragrance  of 
golden-chaliced,  incomparable  lilies  crowning  a  great 
green  bed  of  foliage  just  beyond  the  columned 
veranda. 

The  night  was  a  climax  of  Nature's  divinest 
mood;  so  bright,  so  deliciously  freighted  with  the 
breath  of  roses,  magnolia  and  lily;  its  voices  so  at- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  103 

tuned  to  its  mystic  solitude ;  the  cooing  of  pigeons, 
the  slumberous  notes  of  the  mocking-birds,  the  faint- 
ing cries  of  the  whip-poor-wills,  the  fairy-like  charm 
of  a  night  in  June.  Its  sorcerous  spell  enmeshed 
Ruth's  heart,  so  sensitized  with  a  previous  spiritual 
exaltation,  in  a  blinding  revelation  of  the  ecstatic 
joys  of  an  awakening  in  Cupid's  rose-embowered 
court,  its  atmosphere  pulsing  with  all  the  resplendent 
charm  and  enchantment  haloing  the  dawn  of  the 
birthday  of  Love. 

She  was  tremulously  awed  in  the  presence  of 
something  she  did  not  comprehend ;  it  was  so  dif- 
ferent from  an  ordinary  experience.  The  familiar 
notes  of  the  time-honored  piano,  the  dear  voices  so 
mirthful  in  the  parlor,  so  magically  translated  into 
an  orchestra  of  seductive  strains  impelling  her  irre- 
sistibly into  the  labyrinthean  mazes  of  a  strange  and 
wonderful  realm.  His  eyes  had  drawn  hers  with 
mesmeric  force  to  meet  his  and  read,  not  with 
understanding,  but  with  reluctant  subjection  to  their 
magnetism,  the  story  of  his  besieging  heart. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  confided  with  an  ungovernable 
impulse  of  the  moment,  and  she  shivered  in  a  wave 
of  nervousness  she  had  not  the  strength  to  subdue. 
He  smiled  reassuringly  and  leaned  that  he  might 
still  further  enfold  her  in  the  thrall  of  his  wooing 
eyes.  She  drew  away  instinctively.  "Why  do  vou 
act  so?  It  troubles  me,"  she  faltered,  gaspingly,  her 
extreme  nervousness  evinced  in  her  difficult  words. 

He  was  rebuked,  and  sat  erect,  inhaling  his  sus- 
pended breathing  deeply,  but  he  did  not  trust  him- 
self with  speech;  rather  he  lifted  his  gaze  moodily 
until  it  rested  upon  the  distant  forest,  from  which 


104  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

came  sibilant  sighs  of  its  solitude.  In  its  depths,  he 
knew,  grew  jessamine  and  arbutus,  and — the  cloy- 
ing, ozonic  mucous  of  the  pines,  which  had  decoyed 
him  into  that  region  and  to  his  fate.  Well  he  knew 
that  his  being  there  was  proof  of  his  subservience  to 
a  vain  woman's  whims  and  extravagant  ambition. 
His  heart  filled  with  a  rush  of  bitter  perplexity  as 
memory  flashed  panoramic  views  of  his  past  and  its 
entanglements. 

He  felt  as  if  Maude,  dancing  through  the  swirling 
maze  of  society's  realm,  was  treading  his  heart  with 
iron-shod  feet. 

He  threw  such  reflections  from  his  mind  and 
swiftly  recalled  himself  to  the  present;  his  glance 
fell  from  the  forest  over  lunar-lighted  fields  and 
terraced  orchards  until  it  rested  again  upon  Ruth 
and  noted  her  seraphic  beauty  and  artless  youth; 
then  a  pathos  of  tenderness  surcharged  his  heart  and 
regenerated  his  soul. 

The  divine  light  of  a  supreme  adoration  flamed 
upon  Ruth  as  he  leaned  toward  her.  Tears  sparkled 
on  her  dark  lashes,  her  ruby  lips  quivered,  timidly. 
She  had  propped  her  bare  elbow  upon  the  back  of 
the  seat  and  rested  her  cheek  in  the  palm  of  her 
hand  meditatively.  Jean  was  singing  "Danube 
River"  with  the  fervor  consonant  with  the  romantic 
period  familiar  to  her  youth  and  to  the  callow  man- 
hood of  Angus  Bethune  and  Allen  IMacRea.  A 
pathos  of  memory,  of  blasted  hopes  and  heart-break- 
ing disappointments  weighted  the  wings  of  the 
melody  voiced  with  the  plaint  of  romantic  renunci- 
ations ;  but  Edwin  Phillips  heeded  not  its  monition 
to  desperate  hopes  born  of  infatuation. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  105 

"Never,  no,  never. 
Can  I  forget  that  night  in  June." 

the  refrain  burst  forth,  its  vohime  argiimented  with 
the  basso  of  the  men's  deep  voices  and  the  faint, 
timid  soprano  of  Mary  Graham's  effort.  He  leaned 
toward  Ritth,  his  manner  gentle,  his  voice  defer- 
ential. 

"I  love  you,  Rtith.  You  are  so  beautiful !  I 
should  not,  but  I  am  helpless.  Will  you  forgive  me?" 

There  was  a  tremor  in  his  voice  and  a  sincerity 
in  his  tones  that  was  convincing  to  her  unsophisti- 
cated heart.  His  mood  had  enchained  her  interest 
and  subdued  her  timidity. 

"What  is  the  love  you  mention?"  she  queried, 
solemnly,  candidly  curious,  and  seeking  light  for  a 
dense  ignorance. 

"Love  is  life,  Ruth,"  he  whispered,  tensely,  with 
caressing  intonation.  "The  only  life  of  the  soul !"  he 
continued,  speaking  slowly  as  if  the  knowledge  was 
new-born  in  his  own  heart,  "and  love  to  me  means 
you,  Ruth." 

"Me  ?"  she  cried  in  surprise  and  positive  negative. 

He  bowed  his  head  affirmatively,  humbly. 

"I  do  not  understand  you ;  I  do  not  know  any- 
thing of  a  love  such  as  you  ascribe  to  me,"  she  re- 
turned, drawing  herself  erect  as  the  idea  occurred  to 
her  that  Jean  would  not  approve  of  her  listening  to 
such  vehement  and  personal  utterances. 

"No,  you  do  not  understand,"  he  informed  her 
with  serious  conviction,  as  he  absorbed  each  detail 
of  the  beauty  that  was  seducing  his  soul  from  the 
path  of  rectitude  and  honor ;  her  clinging  white  dress 


106  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

draping  her  slender  form  in  sinuous  folds,  her 
cheeks  like  the  heart  of  a  blushing  rose,  her  eyes 
like  golden-tinged,  purple  pansies,  her  silken,  golden 
hair,  her  snow-white  purity  of  personality,  aye,  her 
white-robed  innocence,  the  supreme  note  in  her 
charms  which  enslaved  him,  irrevocably. 

Ruth  entwined  her  fingers  interlacingly,  the  visible 
sign  of  her  dismay  and  abashment  in  the  thrall  of 
such  strange  and  translating  emotions.  She  could 
not  enter  the  parlor  after  that  experience.  She  be- 
lieved they  would  know  her  sensations  instantly ; 
watchful  Mary  Graham,  loving  Aunt  Jean,  astute 
and  practical  Uncle  Angus. 

"Will  you  not  go  into  the  parlor?  I  really  think 
I  ought  not  to  linger  here  any  longer,"  she  said,  dis- 
missing him  diplomatically. 

There  was  such  pressing  appeal  in  her  bravely 
spoken  words,  he  was  touched,  and  complied  im- 
mediately. "Certainly,  for  I  shall  be  leaving  directly, 
but  before  I  leave  you,  please  assure  me  of  your 
forgiveness  if  I  have  offended  you." 

"Offended  me?"  Ruth  queried. 

"Yes,  for  presuming  to  love  you  from  the  first 
moment  I  knew  you.  Loving  you  has  not  been  an 
unalloyed  happiness,  but  it  has  been  the  most  won- 
derful and  thrilling  experience  of  my  life." 

She  listened  with  confused  mind  and  throbbing 
pulses,  also  with  a  guilty  sense  of  unconventional 
behavior.  "You  will  excuse  me,  please ;  I — I  really 
do  not  know  how  to  judge  what  you  have  been  say- 
ing. I  am  so — so  surprised,"  she  faltered,  her  utter- 
ance choked  with  tears  of  fright  and  nervous  timid- 
ity.   She  was  so  sincerely  embarrassed,  he  hastened 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  107 

his  effort  to  leave  the  sorcerous  scene,  though  he 
would  fain  have  lingered  in  its  enchantment  in- 
definitely. 

"Well,  ail  rcvoir,"  he  said,  tenderly,  his  eyes 
caressing  her  bashful  and  disturbed  countenance.  "If 
fate  is  kind  I  shall  see  you  often  and  teach  you  to 
regard  me  more  kindly  and  with  less  fear  of  my 
presence,  which  has  always  so  dismayed  you.  Shall 
we  go  in  together  ?" 

"No,  please,"  she  entreated.  He  left  her  abruptly 
and  went  directly  to  the  parlor  to  complete  his 
adieus. 

In  the  parlor  he  was  greeted  with  a  full  quartette 
of  song.  With  beaming  countenances,  Jean  and 
Mary,  Angus  and  Allen,  were  singing  the  refrain  of 
"Danube  River,"  whose  sentiment  had  enthused 
their  hearts  with  memories  which  made  them  all 
young  again  for  the  fleeting  moment.  He  waited  un- 
obtrusively near  the  door  until  the  song  was  finished, 
after  many  repetitions  of  the  chorus,  when  he  bade 
each  one  good  night. 

As  he  traversed  the  length  of  the  veranda  as  he 
was  leaving,  he  discovered  that  Ruth  had  disap- 
peared. He  plucked  a  branch  of  geranium  foliage 
which  her  bright  head  had  touched  as  she  had  leaned 
against  the  column  watching  the  moonrise,  and 
thrust  it  through  a  buttonhole  of  his  coat. 

The  moon  was  nearing  its  zenith  when  he  arrived 
at  the  camp,  but  life  still  pulsed  in  the  sordid  hamlet 
of  shanties,  fully  revealed  by  the  vivid  moonlight. 
His  horse  neighed  greetingly  as  he  drove  past  the 
long  row  of  rude  stables  where  the  wagon  mules 
ate  steadily  and  noisily.    A  banjo  twanged  merrily 


108  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

in  the  negro  quarters,  where  a  shuffUng  of  feet  de- 
noted revelry.  Smoke,  black  and  lurid,  hovered 
above  the  distilleries,  which  resembled  a  veritable 
inferno  where  the  fire  is  not  quenched,  be  it  daylight 
or  moonlight.  The  rat-a-tat  of  hammers  in  the 
cooper's  shop  sounded  in  vain  tattoos  to  the  laborers 
of  the  night  force.  Smiths  were  shoeing  mules 
where  a  bellows,  mounted  like  a  cannon  on  a  battery, 
wheezed  asthmatically.  The  aggregate  of  labor 
which  day  and  night  wrought  for  the  gold  which  was 
to  assure  him  position  in  society  and  the  privilege 
of  leading  to  the  altar  Maude  Endiston,  whose 
father's  wealth  had  rendered  her  so  seemingly  de- 
sirable. 

A  boy  from  the  night's  detail  of  helpers  assumed 
the  care  of  his  horse  and  buggy,  and  he  was  free  to 
enter  his  shanty  where  the  servant  who  attended  to 
his  comfort  had  placed  his  mail  beside  the  lamp, 
which  was  turned  low,  thriftily.  There  were  several 
letters,  and  he  scanned  their  superscriptions  with  a 
guilty  shame  in  his  heart.  He  did  not  find  what  he 
so  dreaded  encountering  that  night,  and  he  breathed 
a  profound  sigh  of  relief  in  that  no  message  from 
beyond  the  pines  rebuked  his  wayward  affection.  It 
was  in  his  mind  to  wish  sincerely  that  his  life  could 
be  horizoned  from  its  beginning  to  the  uttermost  of 
its  limit,  with  the  camp  and  its  work,  with  his  horse 
and — Kissic-Dale;  for 

"How  is  it  under  our  control 
To  love — or  not  to  love." 


CHAPTER  11. 

Love's  Teasings — ^July  in  the  Pine-lands — The 
Motto  of  Scotland. 

"  Come,  Clarissel     Put  by  hay-rake! 
The  sun  is  hot  enough  to  bake! 
And  those  who  keep  to  the  fields  to-day 
Must  scorch  and  shrivel  like  drying  hay; 
But  where  the  blackberry  patches  lie. 
Birches  give  shade  and  a  brook  runs  by." 

— Selected. 

It  was  a  day  in  the  last  week  of  July ;  and  July 
in  the  pine-lands  means  the  glare  of  Sahara,  the  heat 
of  the  tropics,  so  little  is  there  of  practical  shading 
to  ward  off  the  vertical  sun-rays,  to  ameliorate  the 
dazzling  reflection  of  the  white  sand  and  dissipate 
the  stifling  radiation  of  the  rifts  of  glistening  pine 
needles. 

The  prophecy  of  the  morning  indicated  that  that 
day  would  not  be  different  from  its  immediate 
predecessors,  in  whose  torrid  noons  all  nature  had 
seemed  to  gasp  and  faint,  in  swooning  impotence. 

As  he  entered  the  cool  domain  of  Kissic-Dale, 
Edwin  Phillips,  in  sheer  relief,  bared  his  head  to  the 
emerald  repose  and  tempting  shadows  of  that  oasis 
in  the  deserts  of  bleak  pine  forests. 

The  embowered  acres  of  terraced  orchards,  the 


110  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

century's  growth  of  shade  trees,  pleasing  features  of 
the  breeze-swept  valley  bearing  on  its  green  bosom 
the  rippling  waters  of  Holly  Creek,  willow-fringed 
and  sinuous,  were  peculiarly  enhanced  in  their 
promise  of  comfort,  by  their  contrast  to  the  shade- 
less  forest  and  bare  reaches  of  sand  crystals  which 
burned  the  feet  through  solid  leather  where  pines 
posed  as  magnets  to  concentrate  the  ferocious  in- 
tensity of  the  sun's  direct  rays. 

Edwin  drove  slowly  down  the  long  slope  from  the 
eastern  gate ;  he  drew  rein  as  he  was  crossing  the 
bridge,  his  horse  drawing  panting  breaths  in  the 
shadow  of  drooping  willows,  where  the  water  swept 
soothingly  beneath,  and  a  limpid  refreshment  arose 
from  the  transparent  depths,  inexpressibly  grateful 
to  man  and  beast. 

It  was  yet  the  dewy  hours  of  morning  and  the 
valley  was  cool  and  fresh  from  its  bath  of  sparkling 
dewdrops.  Through  shadowed  vistas  he  glimpsed 
fruiting  orchards,  Sandy's  vine-draped  cottage  and 
the  white-columned  mansion ;  and  leisurely  he  drove 
on,  pondering  speculatively  upon  his  impending  re- 
ception by  Ruth. 

Ten  o'clock  struck  while  he  sat  with  Mary  and 
Jean  in  a  cool,  flower-environed  corner  of  the 
veranda.  Mary  strung  snap-beans  for  Dicey ;  Jean 
was  sewing ;  Iphogenia,  the  dusky  maid,  was  peeling 
peaches  for  preserving.  He  ate  peaches  and  Jean 
served  him  with  melons  and  grapes  and  conversed 
amiably. 

Ruth  was  invisible ;  every  door  and  window  stood 
wide  open  and  glimpsing  the  interiors  he  could  find 
no  hint  of  her  presence.    He  had  arrived  warm  and 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  111 

thirsty,  for  since  earliest  morning  he  had  been  riding 
the  circuit  of  orchards,  instalHng  the  man  who  was 
to  reUeve  him  for  a  holiday  trip  and  a  visit  to  friends 
and  relatives.  He  confided  to  Jean  that  he  had 
driven  over  to  pay  her  a  farewell  call  before  his  de- 
parture for  home  scenes.  She  was  cordially  pleased 
that  he  could  have  the  pleasure  and  recreation  to  be 
derived  from  the  vacation  from  work  which  could 
not  possibly  be  wholly  agreeable. 

Life  was  strenuous,  indeed,  in  the  orchards  and 
camp  just  then.  Men  hauled  mountainous  loads  of 
new  barrels  resounding  with  emptiness  to  designated 
spots,  and  left  them  to  be  filled  with  raw  turpentine, 
which  other  men  brought  to  those  points  in  buckets 
replenished  tediously  from  the  boxed  and  hacked 
trees ;  and  other  perspiring  teamsters  carted  them, 
full  and  weighty,  back  to  camp,  where  their  con- 
tents were  poured  into  the  rapacious  maws  of  the 
distilleries  whose  ink-black  smoke  tinged  the  atmos- 
phere constantly.  Turpentine  was  king  in  camp  and 
orchard.  Its  perpetual  odor  bathed  the  entire  vicin- 
ity, its  dross  covered  the  ground  in  the  locality  of 
the  distilleries  like  cooled  lava  from  an  active 
volcano. 

It  coated  quickly  all  the  barrels  and  implements, 
and  it  besmeared  the  men's  clothing,  and  besmirched 
their  countenances  and  matted  their  brows  and  hair  ; 
it  set  its  tenacious  seal  upon  every  object  that  per- 
mitted its  contact,  but  Edwin  Phillips  had  held  aloof 
successfully  from  its  debasing  and  disfiguring  touch. 
He  had  shunned  it  and  its  influence  as  a  diver  evades 
the  reaching  tentacles  of  a  deep  sea  octopus.  When 
its  novelty  had  worn  into  drudgery  he  had  wearied 


112  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

extremely  of  camp  life,  when  the  influence  which 
had  deluded  him  there  was  attenuated  by  a  stronger 
desire,  he  had  become  listless  and  repugnant  of  its 
deprivation;  then  memory  had  sung  a  song  of  roll- 
ing, leafy  hills,  of  level  fields  and  gravelled  roads,  of 
smiling  men  and  women,  and  the  glamor  of  well- 
dressed,  refined  society.  He  was  to  return  to  his 
former  element  as  an  amphibian  creature  from  the 
drouth-scorched  land  to  the  cool,  dim  depths  of 
water. 

One  regret  alone,  one  solitary  joy,  hindered  a  full 
anticipation  of  the  prospective  pleasure  which 
awaited  his  venture — Ruth  and  Kissic-Dale.  Out  in 
the  forest  the  sun  burned  his  eyes,  the  hot  air  stifled 
his  lungs,  the  plain  food  repelled  his  failing  appetite, 
the  sand  gnats  tortured  him  and  "pepper  gnats" 
drove  into  his  eyes  as  flying  seeds  of  pepper.  His 
shanty  was  often  the  temperature  of  a  baker's  oven, 
the  water  was  brackish  and  unwholesome,  his  horse 
constantly  in  a  frenzy  with  the  plague  of  stinging 
pests ;  aye !  but  he  was  delighted  to  be  rid  of  his 
worries,  for  at  least  a  season. 

Yet  those  worries  were  not  the  supreme  motive 
which  sent  him  away  from  his  work  in  the  midst  of 
its  busiest  season ;  his  mother  and  sister  had  aft'ec- 
tionately  but  imperatively  insisted  that  there  should 
be  amends  shown  his  fiancee,  whom  he  was  neglect- 
ing with  unlover-like  negligence.  He  had  decided  to 
obey  them  in  justice  to  himself  and  the  girl  he  was 
fast  forgetting,  or  at  least  her  claim  upon  his 
allegiance. 

He  had  reflected  that  perhaps  his  judgment  had 
become  faulty  by  the  deprivations  and  paucity  of  his 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  113 

present  environment,  by  a  clamoring  of  his  heart 
emerging  from  the  winter  of  a  great  discontent  and 
depressing  homesickness,  when  it  was  assailed  by 
spring's  magical  influences,  and  chance  had  supplied 
the  object  unto  which  all  his  vicarious  longings  were 
directed  for  fulfillment  of  urgent  desire. 

Perhaps  Ruth  was  not  so  absolutely  desirable  as 
his  impoverished  heart  had  esteemed  her;  perhaps 
Kissic-Dale  was  not  the  paradise  he  had  conceived 
it  to  be  in  his  sordid  state  of  existence.  At  home 
the  flowers  might  be  just  as  sweet,  his  sister's  music 
just  as  entrancing;  and  Maude's  be-architectured 
home  just  as  stately  and  reposing  as  the  white  man- 
sion which  sheltered  Ruth. 

Aye !  perhaps  Maude's  smile  was  just  as  enamor- 
ing  as  Ruth's  flower-like  purity  of  expression  and 
golden-haired  loveliness. 

Ruth  had  been  distant  and  impressed  him  that  she 
was  alien  to  his  race  of  people.  Since  that  June 
night  he  had  visited  regularly  at  Kissic-Dale,  yet 
had  never  achieved  another  quiet  interview  with  her  ; 
neither  since  that  time  had  she  shown  such  embar- 
rassment and  agitation  in  his  presence ;  a  subtle  dig- 
nity had  marked  her  behavior  and  imposed  a  barrier 
to  all  but  impersonal  intimacy.  He  had  exhausted 
every  known  excuse  to  visit  her;  he  had  even  joined 
fishing  parties — and  he  detested  the  sport — inaug- 
urated by  Jean  and  Angus  Bethune,  and  each  time 
Ruth  had  declined  to  join  the  outing.  He  had  dined 
and  supped  at  Kissic-Dale,  called  for  fruit  and 
flowers,  and  had  several  times  fetched  Jennie  or  the 
children  to  spend  a  few  hours  there,  but  all  his 
efforts  had  been  futile. 


114  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

Sometimes  Ruth  had  been  absent  visiting  some 
sick  Gaelic  neighbor  or  young  girl  friend  who  lived 
distantly ;  and  while  her  uncle  had  tarried  at  Kissic- 
Dale,  he  had  been  responsible  for  many  of  her 
absences.  Jean  had  invariably  explained  that  she 
encouraged  the  truancy  from  home  and  books,  and 
music  and  pencil ;  that  Ruth  needed  a  true  vacation, 
she  had  studied  so  indefatigably  the  past  year — and 
the  years  of  her  growth  were  not  yet  ended. 

He  could  not  understand  whether  she  purposely 
avoided  him.  Occasionally  she  was  smiling  and 
cordial,  at  other  times  pensive  and  sedate,  excluding 
herself  from  social  converse  and  leaving  his  enter- 
tainment to  Jean.  Perhaps  her  unsatisfying  de- 
meanor had  much  to  do  with  his  extreme  weariness 
of  the  life  at  the  camp.  Anyway,  he  was  deliber- 
ately seeking  an  interview  with  her  before  going 
away  and  was  determined  to  achieve  it  if  he  spent 
the  day  in  the  effort.  Finally  he  inquired  casually  if 
Ruth  was  at  home. 

"She  is  down  by  the  spring  with  Jamie  and 
Ezeke,"  Jean  replied  readily.  "They  have  impro- 
vised some  kind  of  a  boat  and  invited  her  to  the 
launching.  I  think  she  is  to  christen  it  with  a  bottle 
of  spring  water;  and  she  seems  to  be  spending  the 
morning  in  the  woods  with  them." 

"May  I  go  down  and  see  what  they  are  doing?" 
he  requested,  tentatively.  "I  wish  to  bid  her  goodby 
and  beg  of  her  some  flowers  for  my  sister." 

"If  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  seek  her."  Jean 
assented  graciously.  "Tell  her  to  give  you  a  glass 
of  milk.  We  have  none  at  the  house.  Such  weather 
as  this  we  keep  all  our  milk  and  butter  in  the  dairy. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  115 

I  will  gather  some  flowers  for  your  sister;  I  shall 
esteem  it  a  privilege  to  do  so." 

He  thanked  Jean  and  hurried  away.  He  was 
much  relieved  that  Ruth  was  not  purposely  hiding 
from  him ;  a  suspicion  that  she  might  be  had  forced 
into  his  heart  a  dreary  despondency.  He  trod  the 
path  leading  from  the  north  gate  down  a  long  slope 
to  the  spring,  the  way  worn  by  the  feet  of  past  gen- 
erations of  MacKenzies,  and  sheltered  by  vine- 
covered  trellises,  which  excluded  the  hot  sunshine. 
As  he  emerged  from  the  tunnel-like  path,  he  de- 
scended a  few  stone  steps  to  the  floor  of  the  sylvan 
dell  that  surrounded  the  spring  and  dairy.  Honey- 
suckle and  other  drif tings  from  the  house  lawn 
mingled  with  and  draped  wildwood  growths  there, 
and  a  flagged  walk  led  to  the  spring  embowered  in 
weeping-willows. 

Maple  and  black-gum  trees  threw  their  protective 
branches  above  the  tender  turf  and  sweet  water- 
grasses,  the  ferns  and  mint,  and  water-rushes ;  and 
the  atmosphere  was  permeated  with  a  limpid  purity, 
peculiarly  grateful  and  refreshing,  amid  such 
glaringly  warm  weather.  Voices  smote  the  wood- 
land solitude  in  boyish  trebles,  and  he  soon  discov- 
ered the  boys  wading  in  a  pool  and  propelling 
a  fancied  gunboat,  constructed  from  a  long,  water- 
tight box.  A  defunct  rush-stalk  posed  as  a  mast, 
from  which  Ruth's  small  cambric  handkerchief 
waved  as  an  ensign ;  an  unwieldy  vessel,  surely,  but 
their  imagination  supplied  all  deficiencies,  and  they 
were  joyously  happy. 

Ruth  sat  apart  on  a  wash-bench  in  a  shady  spot, 
busy  with  her  pencil.    She  was  sketching  a  deformed 


116  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

maple,  which  had  known  many  vicissitudes,  but  had 
survived  all  perils  by  floods  and  winds  in  its  sapling 
youth,  and  bravely  held  aloft  a  symmetrical  canopy 
of  foliage  to  crown  its  unshapely  trunk.  Its  twisted 
and  scarred  body,  its  distorted  roots,  bulging  beyond 
the  soil  to  which  they  clung  for  sustenance,  showed 
evidence  of  a  tragical  history  and  interested  her 
more  than  did  the  slender,  graceful  specimens  of  the 
coppice,  whose  prosperous  appearance  denoted  a 
placid,  uneventful  growth. 

With  his  first  glimpse  of  Ruth,  Edwin  paused,  ar- 
rested by  a  sudden  sharp  stab  from  his  conscience. 
She  was  so  girlishly  innocent  and  youthful,  in  a 
simple  white  dress,  her  bright  hair  falling  unre- 
strained to  her  waist,  floating  in  a  bath  of  warm 
summer  breezes.  When,  finally,  he  approached  her 
and  apologized  for  intruding  so  unceremoniously, 
she  stared  for  a  moment  in  complete  surprise ;  then 
her  face  flushed  rosily  and  her  eyes  drooped  timidly. 

"I  have  found  you,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  reproach. 

"Why,  indeed,  I  was  not  hiding,"  she  retorted, 
with  emphatic  denial,  and  the  blush  deepened  repre- 
hensibly. 

"I  did  not  say  you  were  hiding.  I  merely  re- 
marked that  I  had  found  you,"  he  returned,  with  a 
teasing  smile  and  gay  humor.  Her  tell-tale  blushes 
rendered  him  deliriously  happy  in  a  mercurial  re- 
bound from  doubt  and  repression. 

"You  say  truly,"  she  assented  quietly,  and  with 
unsmiling  expression,  as  he  threw  himself  down 
upon  a  boulder  deeply  sunk  in  ferns  and  water- 
grasses  and  pushed  the  damp  hair  from  his  white 
brow.     He  leaned  negligently  against  one  of  the 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  117 

slender-trunked  maples,  and  politely  but  intently 
studied  Ruth  critically,  but  withal,  admiringly.  She 
laid  aside  cardboard  and  pencil  and  was  courteously 
attentive. 

"I  called  to  say  goodby;  I  am  going  home,"  he 
said  with  abrupt  directness,  and  he  watched  her  fur- 
tively.    "Will  you  not  wish  me  bon  voyage?" 

"Certainly,"  she  answered,  not  meeting  his  eyes, 
but  with  a  sudden  tremulous  twitching  of  her  sensi- 
tive lips. 

"And  also  thank  you  for  being  so  kind  to  me,  a 
stranger,  without  claim  to  your  hospitality,"  he  con- 
tinued, testingly. 

"We  have  done  nothing  deserving  special  grati- 
tude, I  am  sure,  and  the  pleasure  has  been  mutual." 
she  responded  stiltingly  and  with  a  stately  distance 
of  mien. 

In  her  heart  she  was  saying,  "Going  back  to  his 
own  friends,  to  the  cherished  ones  who  have  always 
known  him.  I  am  but  an  incident  in  a  short  period 
of  his  busy  life." 

"You  have  been  as  the  shadow  of  a  rock  in  a 
weary  land,"  he  declared  fervently,  suddenly  serious 
and  pensive. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  found  pleasure  with  us,"  she 
replied  with  cordial  formality.  "It  must  have  seemed 
cruelly  dreary  to  you  out  here,  away  from  every 
one  who  could  interest  you." 

He  viewed  her  w4th  slanting,  puzzled  scrutiny. 
He  had  caught  echoes  of  Jean's  stately  utterances 
in  the  lifeless  words.  Her  mimicry  rebuked  his  sin- 
cere ardor  of  sentiment.  "I  have  found  Paradise 
with  you,"  he  exclaimed,  pugnaciously. 


118  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

Her  serious  eyes  brooded  the  rustling  corn  beyond 
the  forest- fringed  little  stream;  in  fancy,  she  beheld 
the  world  beyond  the  sand-hills,  the  world  of  which 
she  was  so  profoundly  ignorant,  but  was  his  native 
element.  Her  ignorance  assigned  vital  realities  to 
its  seductive  wiles  and  roseate  grandeur.  She  sighed, 
she  reared  her  head  proudly : 

"Weird  women  we!     By  dale  and  down, 
We  dwell  afar  from  tower  and  town!" 

she  quoted,  submissively,  and  with  a  vague  touch  of 
hopelessness. 

He  lifted  his  head  and  sternly  assailed  her  aloof 
expression  with  a  compelling  glance,  as  he  also 
quoted,  deliberately,  and  with  pointed  emphasis: 

"We  stem  the  flood!     We  ride  the  blast! 
On  wandering  knights  our  spells  we  cast." 

Then  he  fell  back  to  his  former  position  and 
absently  plucked  a  delicate  fern-frond  and  pro- 
ceeded to  strip  its  hairy  stem  in  nonchalant  leisure. 

The  birds  sang  piercingly,  the  cicadas  shrilled  their 
jarring  notes  in  the  leaf-clothed  trees,  the  little  rill 
murmured  melodiously.  The  amateur  gunboat  lay 
a  deserted  derelict  among  the  marginal  rushes,  the 
brave  white  pennant  drooping  pathetically.  The 
boys  had  siezed  an  opportunity  to  wade  to  its  mouth 
the  pretentious  stream.  The  mirage  of  heat  waves 
floated  above  the  level  of  corn  whose  blades  were 
curled  against  the  blistering  sun-rays ;  afar  off,  be- 
yond the  suffering  fields,  reposed  the  forest,  a  glow- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  119 

ing  reflector  of  the  intense  atmosphere.  The  bird 
notes,  long-drawn  and  liquid,  emphasized  the  cool 
retreat  in  the  sylvan  depths  of  the  green,  tangled 
woodland.  Edwin's  heart  surged  in  a  mad  turmoil 
of  strong  emotions,  as  he  stripped  the  last  frond 
from  the  frayed  stem,  which  he  flung  aimlessly  at  a 
piping  cricket.  What  folly  had  been  his  that  for  a 
moment  he  had  imagined  that  he  was  mistaken  in 
the  fascination  Ruth  possessed  !  He  was  longing  for 
some  gleam  of  comfort  to  soothe  him  while  absent 
on  his  enforced  journey.  When  he  spoke  again  his 
voice  vibrated  with  appealing  gentleness.  Ruth  had 
ignored  completely  the  inference  conveyed  in  his  apt 
quotation. 

"Ruth,  are  you  sorry  that  I  am  going,  even 
briefly?" 

She  deliberated,  then  chose  her  words  carefully. 
"Of  course,  we  shall  miss  you,  Mr.  Phillips ;  we 
have  so  few  diversions.  We  have  missed  Donald 
very  much,  and  Uncle  Angus.  Aunt  Jean  has  re- 
marked that  you  have  somewhat  filled  the  void  left 
by  their  absence ;  but  it  would  be  very  selfish  to  be 
sorry  that  you  can  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  those 
who  are  really  near  and  dear  to  you.  At  the  most 
we  are  but  strangers  and  of  another  race  than  you, 
who,  in  your  relations  to  us,  are  but  a  bird  of 
passage.  I  am  glad  for  your  sake,  and  hope  you 
may  experience  every  pleasure  you  now  anticipate  in 
full  measure." 

She  avoided  his  eloquent  glance,  tinged  with  un- 
spoken hurt  and  mute  reproach.  She  gathered  to- 
gether her  bonnet  and  sketching  material.  "Did 
Aunt  Jean  send  any  message  by  you  to  me?     Did 


120  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

she  say  for  me  to  come  home?"  she  queried, 
nervously,  hoping  for  an  excuse  to  escape  from  a 
situation  that  was  pecuHarly  trying  to  her  dignity 
and  self-possession. 

"She  did  not  say  for  you  to  return  home,  and 
would  you  forsake  this  sylvan  Paradise,  as  if  I  were 
a  serpent  come  to  contaminate  its  Edenic  atmos- 
phere ?  Ah,  no !  You  cannot  be  so  unkind  !  Ugh !" 
he  continued  with  an  expressive  shudder.  "If  you 
could  realize  the  heat  of  the  pine  woods,  you  would 
feel  like  tarrying  here  indefinitely." 

As  he  leaned  against  the  tree  with  an  air  of  fatigue 
he  confessed  to  her  his  discontent  and  worries  ex- 
aggeratedly. 

"I  am  tortured  by  the  sand  and  pines  by  day  and 
dream  of  them  all  night.  They  have  become  a 
plague,  from  which  I  must  flee  to  ensure  my  sanity. 
At  times  I  have  felt  that  I  had  been  cast  into  the 
fiery  furnace  with  Daniel,  or — er — was  it  Nebuchad- 
nezzar they  condemned  to  the  furnace  so  many 
times  heated  ?" 

Ruth  stared,  pondering  his  ignorance  or  unseemly 
levity. 

"Oh,  was  it  some  other  fellow  who  happened  to 
that  misfortune?"  he  supplemented  quickly,  as  he 
recalled  with  flashing  memory  Simpson's  shipwreck 
upon  the  social  strand.  Ruth  still  regarded  him 
seriously ;  he  fancied  rebukingly  supercilious.  She 
reflected  how  aptly  he  had  quoted  Scott  but  a  short 
time  previous,  and  could  not  believe  him  so  woefully 
ignorant  of  the  sacred  Scriptures. 

"It  was  some  other  people,"  she  answered  gently, 
he  believed  pityingly.  "It  was  Shadrach,  Messhach 
and  Nebednego." 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  121 

He  bowed  his  head  humbly,  in  deference  to  her 
superior  knowledge,  presumably.  She  mistrusted 
the  sincerity  of  his  humility,  and,  in  her  silvery, 
brogue-tinged  voice,  which  ever  reminded  him  that 
she  was  "a  sweet  Scotch  lassie,"  she  continued  insist- 
ently :  "Please,  shall  we  go  now  ?  Aunt  Jean  will 
surely  expect  us." 

"Not  just  yet,"  he  begged  earnestly.  "Let  us 
tarry  just  here  a  little  longer.  I  shall  soon  be  far 
away,  and  shall  not  see  you  again  in  such  a  dreary 
length  of  time." 

"But  you  go  gladly,  of  your  own  will,  not  as  if 
sentence  had  exiled  you,"  she  reminded  him  critic- 
ally, the  least  bit  jealously,  as  the  primal  passion  of 
every  human  heart  found  birth  in  her  innocent 
emotions. 

"Do  I  ?"  he  retorted  with  a  hint  of  secluded  bitter- 
ness. "Have  you  considered  my  life  in  a  shanty, 
the  claim  of  a  mother  and  an  only  sister?"  he  argued, 
defensively. 

"Indeed,  I  have !  Did  I  not  wish  you  bon  voyage 
just  now?"  she  asked,  conciliatorily. 

"You  did.  Forgive  me,"  he  returned  tenderly, 
and  with  a  glance  so  direct  and  appealing,  she 
avoided  it  by  lifting  hers  and  gazing  abroad,  imper- 
sonally. In  the  moment  of  tense  silence  which  fol- 
lowed, the  cicadas  rasped  noisily,  the  shadows  were 
teasingly  restless,  shifting  bars  of  scorching  sun- 
rays  that  burned  as  they  drifted  over  her  yellow 
hair,  her  white  forehead,  her  flushing  cheeks. 

"I  wonder,"  she  remarked,  suddenly  and  with  con- 
cern, "why  Jamie  and  Ezeke  are  out  in  the  corn?  I 
fear  they  will  be  ill  by  exposing  their  bare  heads  to 
such  extreme  heat." 


122  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

She  arose  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  creeping, 
stalking  figures,  whose  actions  had  compelled  her 
attention  so  opportunely. 

She  was  presently  enlightened  by  a  flurried  flight 
of  two  plump  partridges,  which  arose  from  the 
shelter  of  trailing  pea-vines  and  obscuring  corn 
blades,  and  flew  distractedly  to  the  refuge  of  the 
woods. 

"Oh,  Jamie,"  she  appealed  in  a  distress  ot  sym- 
pathy, "leave  the  poor  little  things  just  where  they 
are  hidden !  Do,  Jamie !  And  go  back  into  the 
woods,  out  of  the  sun !" 

"But  the  birds  have  flown  into  the  thicket ;  did 
you  not  observe  their  flight?"  Edwin  advised,  lazily, 
without  interest. 

"Oh,  yes,  but  they  left  their  little  ones,  wee,  brown 
mites  of  birds,  hidden  from  the  boys.  Jamie,  you 
must  come  away  immediately !  Oh,  how  they  must 
have  tortured  the  poor  little  mother  !"  she  exclaimed, 
y  as   if  voicing  a   strata   of  thought   underlying  her 

verbal  expression. 

"All  right !"  Jamie  halloed  in  response  to  her  en- 
treaties. "We  didn't  mean  to  catch  'em.  We  are 
trying  to  count  'em." 

Ruth,  with  that  assurance  from  Jamie,  resumed 
her  seat.  Jamie  and  Ezeke  returned  to  the  shade 
of  the  woodland ;  Edwin  viewed  the  evidence  of  her 
excited  sympathy  for  the  mother-bird  and  her  tiny 
brood  critically. 

"I  wonder,"  he  remarked  reproachfully,  "why  you 
are  always  so  cruel  to  me?  Yet  you  show  so  much 
tenderness  to  a  bunch  of  peeping  brownies." 

With  eyes  glowing  still  with  the  fervor  of  the  sym- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  123 

pathy  for  which  he  reproached  her,  she  flushed  sensi- 
tively. 

"You  are — you  have  been  extremely  unkind  to 
me,"  he  accused  her,  bravely. 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  she  said,  constrainedly.  She 
held  her  head  proudly,  grateful  that  she  no  longer 
trembled  in  his  presence  and  quivered  like  the  wee, 
brown  birdies  hidden  out  there  among  the  pea-vines, 
quaking  from  an  instinctive  terror  of  the  unknown 
and  unfamiliar. 

"Let  me  make  amends  for  any  lack  of  hospitality 
you  may  have  fancied,  Mr.  Phillips,"  she  requested, 
with  an  excess  of  cordial  attention. 
"Well  ?"  he  assented,  interrogatively. 
"Let  me  offer  you  a  cool  glass  of  milk  from  the 
dairy ;  I  am  sure  you  must  be  thirsty,"  she  replied, 
and  waited  expectantly. 

"I  will  have  some  milk  presently,  but  my  thirst  is 
not  very  insistent."  He  idly  plucked  blades  of  tender 
water-grasses  as  he  stifled  a  sigh,  lugubriously. 

"Have  you  forgotten  all  I  said  to  you  that  night  in 
June  when  the  full  moon  was  shining?  Or  do  you 
despise  me  because  I  confessed  so  much  of  my  senti- 
ments toward  you  then?  Really,  you  have  behaved 
as  if  it  were  so,  and  thus  you  have  tortured  me  un- 
mercifully, Ruth,"  he  complained,  wistfully. 

His  humility  and  artful  pleading  touched  and 
thrilled  her,  and  she  found  it  difficult  to  maintain  her 
assumed  dignity  and  aloof  manner.  Her  throat  was 
aching  from  an  emotion  akin  to  tears,  she  felt  stifled 
and  nervous,  as  if  she  were  becoming  ill.  Oh,  it  was 
a  warm  day !  With  heat  enveloping  the  earth  as  a 
smothering  blanket,  heat  that  made  her  eyes  smart, 


124  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

her  temples  throb  and  her  vision  dim  and  glancing. 
It  was  very  trying  to  be  stately,  to  sit  steadily  upon 
the  unaccustomed  pedestal  of  assumed  dignity;  so 
difficult  to  hold  in  her  languorous  mind  the  lesson 
she  had  studied  so  determinedly.  She  blushed  pain- 
fully, but  she  did  not  respond  to  his  reproaches. 

"Ruth,  to  me  you  are  the  fairest,  sweetest,  dearest 
object  on  earth;  is  it  ignorance  of  love  or  coquetry 
that  you  are  so  perfectly  indifferent,  so  cruelly  un- 
kind?" he  insisted  desperately. 

She  dropped  her  eyes  to  the  purling  water,  and 
another  expression  supplanted  her  blushing  con- 
fusion. He  had  at  last  goaded  her  into  a  proud  de- 
fence and  expressed  accusation. 

"Is  that  merely  a  proper  expression  of  gallantry? 
Or  do  you  expect  me  to  accept  it  as  sincerely 
spoken?"  she  queried,  her  eyes  scintillating  with  an 
emotion  tinged  with  jealousy  and  assaulted  pride. 

"I  dare  to  speak  the  truth  as  prompted  by  my 
heart,"  he  said  stubbornly.  "What  other  motive 
could  have  induced  me  to  seek  you  as  I  have  per- 
sisted in  doing  since  the  first  day  I  knew  you?" 

His  voice  faltered  with  rising  passion ;  the  weeks 
of  madness  and  hopeless  infatuation  arose  to  con- 
front the  present.  Logic  fled  as  the  emotions  of 
those  days  found  vent  in  words. 

"I  could  not  help  it,"  he  said.  "But  I  did  not  love 
you  willingly  or  wisely ;  your  beauty  and  charm 
overwhelmed  every  prudent  resolve,  and  truly,  I 
have  never,  and  never  shall  love  anyone  else  as  I 
love  you ;  and — you  are  trying  your  best  to  despise 
me !"  he  accused  her,  vehemently. 

"I  am  not,"  she  denied  instantly,  "but  sincerity  is 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  125 

as  the  milk  of  life  to  me ;  thus  I  feel  inherently,  and 
so  I  have  been  trained;  it  is  the  corner-stone  of  our 
religion,  so  to  speak;  and  I  have  felt,  instinctively, 
perhaps,  that  you  were  not  sincere  with  me,  at  least ; 
that  perhaps  I  just  afforded  you  amusement  for  your 
lonely  days  out  here." 

Her  lips  curled  at  the  idea,  the  pride  of  proud, 
self-contained  generations  robed  her  in  a  distinct 
imperialism. 

"Perish  the  thought!"  he  cried,  negatively, 
although  a  flush  crept  dully  over  his  features, 
shadowed  by  the  tilted  brim  of  his  nobby  straw  hat. 

"Pardon  me  for  speaking  plainly;  but  I  think  it 
best,"  she  said,  humbly,  contritely.  Already  she  re- 
gretted the  voicing  of  the  doubts  which  had  secretly 
beset  her  mind  and  aroused  her  pride  and  jealousy. 

"Ruth !"  he  exclaimed,  with  conviction,  "someone 
has  been  poisoning  your  mind  against  me ;  filling  it 
with  ideas  you  would  never  have  entertained  of  your 
own  volition.  It  must  have  been  that  bachelor  uncle 
of  yours.  It  was  not  your  aunt,  I  am  sure.  She  is 
too  kind  and  charitable,  and  my  friend." 

He  was  bitter  in  his  arraignment  of  Angus  Be- 
thune ;  in  it  was  embodied  some  of  the  spite  he  un- 
consciously cherished  for  the  hale,  hearty  and  pros- 
perous relative,  who  had  appropriated  so  much  of 
Ritth's  society  since  he  had  known  her. 

"Not  directly,"  Ruth  admitted,  "nor  initially.  He 
never  said  a  critical  word  to  me  about  you,  really. 
It  was  a  minister  who  first  gave  me  advice  about 
worldly  young  men." 

"Tell  me  who  it  was  and  what  he  said  that  has  so 
influenced  you?"  he  demanded,  curious  and  amused 


126  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

in  spite  of  an  anxious  and  serious  state  of  mind.  He 
recalled  the  previous  Sabbath  at  Kissic-Dale  kirk, 
the  subdued,  hallowed  peace  of  the  atmosphere  of 
the  sacred  interior,  the  devotional  mien  of  the  Scotch 
congregation,  the  sincerity  and  austerity  of  the  wor- 
ship, the  dignity  and  purely  Scriptural  inspiration  of 
the  services,  of  Parson  MacLoughlan's  discourse, 
uttered  with  simple  but  devout  simplicity.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  sermon  relative  to  the  ideas  she 
had  professed  to  have  imbibed. 

"It  was  when  Uncle  Angus  and  I  went  home  with 
Allen  MacRea,"  she  related,  reminiscently.  "On  the 
Sabbath  we  attended  a  church  beyond  his  home,  and 
there  was  a  young  minister  in  the  pulpit ;  a  theo- 
logical student,  I  was  informed.  He  was  discussing 
modern  life  as  lived  by  worldly  people.  He  became 
very  much  excited  ;  Uncle  Angus  did  not  admire  him 
nor  like  his  sermon.  He  said,  afterward,  he  believed 
the  young  fellow  had  a  personal  grievance,  that  his 
own  wings  had  been  singed  in  swell  society,  where 
he  had  no  business  to  be,  in  deference  to  his  voca- 
tion.    And  Uncle  Angus "     She  was  suddenly 

silent  and  visibly  embarrassed. 

"Tell  me  all,  Ruth,"  he  demanded  sternly,  with  a 
feeling  that  he  was  brought  to  judgment. 

"He,  Uncle  Angus,  said  men  in  love  were  often 
goosey  and  women  silly,  the  most  silly  things  in  cre- 
ation ;  that  men  never  meant  half  they  professed,  but 
women  were  prone  to  believe  their  false  flattery. 
So,  I  made  a  firm  resolve  not  to  listen  to  men  or  be 
a  silly  woman." 

He  was  silent  for  so  long  a  time  after  she  had 
finished  speaking,  she  grew  restlessly  nervous. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  127 

"Please,  shall  we  go  now  and  get  you  a  glass  of 
milk?  I  really  must  not  stay  a  moment  longer. 
Aunt  Jean  will  be  uneasy,  I  am  certain,"  she  said, 
gathering  up  her  bonnet  and  sketching  material. 

He  arose  without  further  protest  and  followed  her 
to  the  dairy.  She  opened  the  door  and  entering, 
filled  him  a  brimming  cup  from  one  of  the  deep  jars 
cooling  in  a  trench  of  flowing  water.  He  took  the 
cup  and  drank  silently,  then  leaned  against  the  door- 
jamb  negligently  while  she  rinsed  the  cup  and  re- 
placed it  on  a  nail  driven  into  the  white  wall ;  then, 
forgetting  the  youngsters  deep  in  the  woods  and  the 
forsaken  craft  capsized  among  the  rushes,  she  led 
the  way  up  the  flagged  path,  homeward. 

He  insisted  upon  carrying  her  sketch-book  and 
bonneting  her  bare  head,  and  assisted  her  courteously 
in  ascending  the  granite  steps,  although  she  wore  no 
train  and  was  as  nimble  as  a  chamois. 

Under  the  grapevine  arbor  she  came  to  grief. 
Like  Absolom.  her  golden  hair,  escaping  below  the 
frill  of  her  sunbonnet,  was  caught  by  the  intruding 
tendril  of  an  overgrown  vine.  Quietly,  she  assayed 
to  disentangle  the  strand  enmeshed,  but  vainly.  He 
came  to  her  rescue  gallantly,  and  while  her  cheeks 
flamed  rosily,  he  clumsily  fingered  the  snarl,  and 
finally  it  was  loosed  and  she  was  free.  He  leaned 
and  smiled  wistfully,  as  he  searched  her  blushing 
face,  her  drooping  eyes  and  timorous  confusion. 

"Thank  you,"  she  murmured,  retreating  from  his 
scrutiny. 

"The  smallest  service  rendered  to  you  gives  me 
infinite  pleasure,"  he  said,  with  tremulous  earnest- 
ness. 


128  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

As  they  came  through  the  gate  and  were  crossing 
the  lawn  to  the  veranda,  Jean  noted  their  quiet 
manner  and  that  they  were  remarkably  silent  for 
young  people.  She  had  been  culling  her  sweetest, 
rarest  blossoms,  and  they  were  heaped  upon  a  table, 
where  she  was  leisurely  sorting  them,  wrapping 
their  stems  in  damp  cotton  and  placing  them  in  a 
white  paper  box,  for  his  convenience  in  carrying 
them. 

"The  heat  has  been  trying  to  you  both,  I  know, 
and  you  show  the  effects  of  its  depression,"  she 
greeted  them,  solicitously.  "Can  you  not  remain 
with  us  until  late  afternoon,  Mr.  Phillips?" 

He  declined  regretfully ;  then,  standing  by  her, 
bare-headed  and  gallant,  he  admired  her  selection  of 
flowers. 

"Ruth,"  Jean  insisted,  "you  must  gather  some- 
thing as  a  special  gift  to  Mr.  Phillips'  sister."  Ruth 
had  returned  so  constrained  and  quiet.  Jean  experi- 
enced a  vague  desire  to  infuse  more  graciousness 
and  cordiality  in  the  entertainment  of  their  brief 
guest.  "Bring  some  of  your  carnations,  bairnie. 
They  are  more  peculiarly  your  very  own  than  any 
other  flower  in  the  garden." 

Ruth  complied  obediently,  pleased  with  an  excuse 
for  absence.  The  carnations  were,  most  of  them, 
the  ofl'spring  from  gleanings  of  garden  pinks  diffused 
over  the  lawn  by  seedlings  from  beds  cultivated  by 
Jean's  mother.  It  had  been  a  filial  duty  with  Ruth 
to  gather  them  up  and  mass  them  in  a  bed  of  rich 
loam  near  to  Jean's  Heart  of  Scotland,  and  Jean  had 
added  modern  varieties  of  the  cultivated  carnation 
to  the  dwarfed  assortment  of  old-fashioned  pinks. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  129 

It  was,  indeed,  a  spot  of  fragrance  and  color,  by 
which  Ruth  knelt  and  plucked  the  blossoms ;  red, 
white,  and  crimson,  whose  petals  were  charged  with 
the  essence  of  their  delicious  fragrance.  Edwin 
came  down  the  prim  walk  flanked  with  broom  and 
joined  her,  restlessly  eager  for  every  moment  that 
could  be  spent  with  her. 

"You  were  so  long  away,  I  came  to  say  you  must 
not  worry  about  the  flowers.  Just  gather  one,  and 
give  it  to  me  for  a  keepsake,"  he  said,  as  she  sprang 
to  her  feet  and  stood  before  him  with  a  sheaf  of  the 
blossoms  clasped  in  her  arms. 

"I  am  sending  them  to  your  sister,"  she  returned, 
pointedly.  She  had  retreated  to  the  shade  cast  by 
the  dense  foliage  of  the  maple  which  protected  the 
Scotch  pine  and  the  heather;  where,  in  the  lea  of 
the  broom,  grew  also  a  few  shrubs  of  gorse,  native 
to  the  "land  o'  cakes." 

She  was  folding  the  long-stemmed  carnations  into 
the  odorous  sheaf. 

"And  you  will  not  give  me  one  tiny  token  that  I 
may  know  you  do  not  utterly  despise  me !"  he  com- 
plained, pleadingly.  "Perhaps,  I  may  never  meet 
you  again,"  he  added,  artfully.  Her  lips  twitched 
but  settled  firmly ;  her  eyes  drooped  before  his,  but 
she  made  no  reply.  Her  hands  had  arranged  the 
flowers,  and  she  laid  them  on  his  arm. 

"For  your  sister,"  she  said.  "I  am  indebted  to  her 
for  the  instruction  you  gave  me  so  kindly  when  I 
was  wearing  those  new  dresses,  you  remember?" 

"And  not  one  bloom  for  me  !"  he  sighed  forlornly. 

She  averted  her  face  and  hesitated,  her  features 
hidden  in  the  depths  of  her  befrilled,  white  sun- 


130  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

bonnet.  Higher,  still  more  vertical,  climbed  the  sun; 
even  in  the  densest  shade  one  felt  the  oppressive  in- 
fluence of  the  blazing,  molten  king  of  summer,  en- 
throned in  a  blazing  sky.  A  lengthy  drive  awaited 
him ;  a  drive  of  many  miles  over  the  hot  sand, 
through  the  unshaded  forest,  whose  plume-topped 
trees  afforded  no  shelter  from  the  prevailing  heat 
and  glare  of  equatorial  sunlight ;  yet  he  lingered 
wistfully,  longing  for  comfort  and  solace  to  accom- 
pany him. 

"Be  kind  to  me  in  this  parting  moment,"  he  begged 
abjectly. 

"Faith  is  not  a  bubble  blown  with  the  breath  of  an 
incident,"  she  answered,  sententiously. 

"Perhaps  it  is  just  that  you  do  not  trust  me,"  he 
responded,  so  humbly  she  was  impressed  by  his  con- 
trite tones.  Almost  he  had  won  her  confidence,  but 
not  quite.    The  doubt  decided  the  quality  of  her  gift. 

"I  will  give  you  a  token,  if  you  will  accept  it,"  she 
said,  reluctantly.  "You  quoted  Scott.  Do  you  know 
the  motto  of  Scotland?" 

He  admitted  that  he  did  not,  apologetically. 

"It  is,  "Nemo  me  impune  la  cessit,"  she  informed 
him.  earnestly. 

"Translate  it!"  he  challenged  her. 

"You  cannot  wound  me  with  impunity,"  she  trans- 
lated, with  quivering  lips  and  eyes  smarting  with 
urgent  but  repressed  tears.  She  turned  to  caress 
the  scrubby  little  pine,  devotionally,  staunch  and 
brave  with  the  sentiment  it  symbolized  in  a  High- 
lander's heart. 

He  divined  something  of  her  meaning,  of  the  an- 
tagonism opposing  his  mastery  of  her  heart  and 
allegiance.    He  was  reverently  silent  as  she  snapped 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  131 

a  small  twig  from  the  cherished  tree,  plucked  a 
spray  of  heather  and  one  of  broom,  which  she  ar- 
ranged in  a  simple  cluster. 

"It  is  not  a  pretty  favor,  it  is  not  suitable  for  a 
boutonniere,  but  it  is  the  most  precious  one  I  am 
capable  of  bestowing;  and  I  would  not  offer  it  to 
one  I  did  not  hope  to  esteem,  ultimately.  Poor, 
homely  relics  of  my  exiled  race,  struggling  for  exist- 
ence in  an  alien  clime,  buffeted  by  its  inhospitable 
suns,  storms  and  droughts,  its  broad  sweep  of  hori- 
zons and  ferocity  of  liberty  and  freedom  of  space," 
she  apostrophied,  as  she  offered  unto  him  the  most 
unlovely  growths  in  Kissic-Dale's  overflowing 
gardens. 

He  received  them  with  the  serious  mien  she  had 
maintained  while  presenting  the  gift. 

"Ruth,"  he  said,  rebukingly,  when  he  had  thanked 
her,  "with  me  there  has  been  no  question  of  race, 
pride  or  of  social  conditions ;  it  has  been  simply  and 
wholly  your  dear  self;  nothing  else  has  mattered  to 
me,  or  will  in  the  future." 

She  smiled  relentingly,  tears  pearling  upon  her 
lashes,  her  eyes  seeking  his  shyly,  yet  bravely. 

"Take  the  carnations  to  Aunt  Jean  and  she  will 
add  them  to  the  flowers  she  is  arranging  for  your 
sister.  I  am  going  to  visit  the  pigeons,  and  we  will 
say  goodby  here.  I  sincerely  hope  for  you  a  most 
pleasant  journey.    Again  bon  voyage." 

"You  must  not  forget  me,  Ruth,"  he  appealed  as 
she  sent  him  away. 

"You  are  more  likely  to  forget  me  and  the  entire 
country,"  she  replied,  waiting,  tensely,  his  tardy  de- 
parture. 

"Let  the  future  prove  us,"  he  challenged,  as  she 
bowed  his  final  dismissal. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Love's  Young  Dream — Guests  at  Kissic-Dale — 
The  Rose-Garden. 

"And  as  a  snowflake  ere  it  catches  stain, 

Gross  and  impure  from  earth's  commingled  dyes." 

— Selected. 

"Who  has  not  felt  a  doubt,  a  pang,  a  throe. 
When  some  desired  yet  hopeless  boon  is  given?" 

— Pocahontas. 

The  summer  days  were  gliding  near  to  the  golden 
fringed  margin  of  autumn's  reign  on  the  harvest- 
laden  bosom  of  the  last  days  of  August.  Tem- 
pestuous showers  had  refreshed  the  earth  and  ban- 
ished to  the  tropical  isles  the  fervid  heat  of  mid- 
summer. 

At  Kissic-Dale  vagrant  clouds,  like  milk-white 
fleece,  flecked  the  silvery  azure  of  a  sky  washed  free 
of  any  tinge  of  haze  or  mist  by  flashing  billows  of 
condensated  vapor  and  rending  electricity.  The 
fields  were  a  climax  of  summer's  efiforts,  gardens 
meet  for  the  pleasure  of  the  gods  who  empty  the 
horn  of  plenty  upon  petitioning  soil ;  a  pleasing  sheen 
of  corn,  amber-tasseled,  of  blossoming  cotton,  bear- 
ing crimson,  white  and  yellow  blooms. 

It  was  the  lull  between  seed-time  and  harvest, 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  133 

the  sowing  and  the  reaping ;  when  the  orchards  were 
weighted  with  mellow  fruit,  the  vineyards  draped 
with  purple  and  golden  grapes,  as  if  for  a  feast  of 
Bacchus,  the  stubble  of  the  wheat-fields  submerged 
in  newly  sprung  verdure. 

Edwin  Phillips  viewed  it  all  with  a  critic's  eye, 
from  a  point  of  view  obtained  in  the  weeks  of 
absence.  First  at  Altamont,  then  at  Maude's  pre- 
tentious home  in  a  small  manufacturing  town,  and 
later  at  his  own  home,  where  his  mother's  grave 
voice  and  subtle  pride  had  recalled  him  to  the  stable 
moorings  of  his  hopeful  youth,  and  soothed  the  tor- 
turing friction  of  his  heart  and  circumstances.  He 
had  returned  to  the  turpentine  camp  the  preceding 
Monday.  It  was  then  a  Saturday  afternoon,  when 
he  had  decided  to  go  to  Kissic-Dale  and — pay  his 
respects  to  Jean. 

As  he  had  returned  from  his  vacation,  despite  his 
deepening  relations  with  Maude,  his  heart  had 
thrilled  with  a  glad  anticipation.  The  clanking  car 
wheels  had  throbbed  a  continuous  refrain :  "Nearer 
to  thee,  nearer  to  Ruth ;"  and  the  white  and  green 
forest  had  greeted  him  with  its  mystic  charm  and 
broad  smile  of  unhampered  sunlight,  the  pines  whis- 
pering the  conviction  of  his  heart :  "Here  is  your 
destiny ;  you  cannot  escape  it." 

He  had  made  some  heroic  resolutions  as  a  sop  to 
bickering  conscience  that  could  not  be  cheated  or 
deluded  by  any  worldly  sophistry,  yet  as  he  had  re- 
sumed his  place  at  the  camp,  he  was  thrilled  by  a 
secret  elation  that  at  any  time  he  might  ride  to 
Kissic-Dale  and  resume  his  pursuit  of  Ruth's  vir- 
ginal affections. 


134  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

He  had  chosen  the  time  with  due  regard  for  ap- 
pearances, that  no  unduly  haste  might  evince  his  real 
mission  there,  that  his  visit  might  assume  the  guise 
of  casuality.  The  short  journey  was  a  pleasant 
reminiscence  of  that  day  when  he  had  discovered 
Ruth  so  unexpectedly.  The  by-roads  were  firm  and 
freshly  carpeted  with  needles,  the  highway  as  solid 
as  a  wave-washed  beach,  the  air  balmy  and  ozonic; 
all  Nature  robed  in  a  sensuous  maturity. 

He  drove,  in  a  retrospective  mood,  from  the 
eastern  gate  to  the  bridge  and  passed  over  the 
swollen  stream  forging  its  way  between  shallow 
banks,  with  imposing  volume  and  hoarse  murmurs 
of  strenuous  progress.  Leisurely,  hesitatingly,  he 
pursued  the  way  up  to  the  mellow-scented  orchard, 
bowing  to  Katherine  on  her  shaded  porch,  where 
her  two  youngest  children  played  and  the  black 
terrier  worried  a  white,  disdainful  cat,  on  the  door- 
steps. 

In  the  cherry  lane  he  met  gangs  of  young  turkeys, 
protecting  hens  guarding  their  scurrying  broods,  and 
was  saluted  by  the  hum  of  bees  buzzing  on  the  trail 
of  ripening  fruit.  The  weather  was  still  quite  warm, 
but  there  was  no  oppression  in  the  atmosphere.  The 
winds  were  laden  with  a  restful  languor,  for  Nature 
reposed  in  completed  tasks,  the  ease  of  assured  har- 
vest after  the  heat  and  travail  of  midsummer. 

As  he  paused  by  the  hitching-post  beneath  the 
ancient  sycamore  guarding  the  threshold  of  the  en- 
trance to  the  lawn,  he  beheld  on  a  distant  point  of 
the  veranda  a  group  of  strangers,  and  he  knew  that 
Kissic-Dale  was  entertaining  guests.  Tony  had  dis- 
covered his  arrival  and  came  to  meet  and  assist  him 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  135 

with  his  horse.  He  held  the  gate  ajar  and  invited 
him  to  enter  with  the  grandiloquent  air  of  a  high- 
born lackey,  as  he  grinned  a  silent  but  cordial 
welcome. 

"Dey  am  at  de  uther  side  ob  de  feranda ;  dey  have 
company,  sah,"  he  informed  Edwin,  as  he  ushered 
him  through  the  gate. 

Ruth  came  to  meet  him,  up  the  colonnaded  way  set 
with  ferns  and  palms,  and  wreathed  with  graceful 
vines,  which  cast  an  emerald  shadow  upon  the  en- 
closure. 

She  was  wearing  her  most  elaborate  dress  and 
the  scene  was  one  of  elaborate  festivity.  He  paused 
on  the  entrance  steps  and  noted  the  mien  of  social 
felicity  haloing  the  staid  mansion  and  its  happy  in- 
mates. The  fragrance  of  cut  flowers  banking  the 
parlor  mantel  and  filling  bowls  and  vases  in  the  halls 
and  rooms,  convinced  him  that  those  guests  had  not 
happened  there  unexpected.  The  aroma  of  fruit  and 
melons  assured  him  that  a  feast  was  in  progress, 
grouping  them  in  that  corner  of  the  veranda. 

He  did  not  know  until  later  why  Ruth  came  to 
meet  him,  instead  of  Jean,  who  usually  took  the 
initiative  with  guests.  As  Ruth  approached  he  was 
conscious  of  a  new  and  novel  charm  in  her  appear- 
ance, and — that  all  his  logical  resolves  were  as 
handwriting  in  shifting  sands.  As  fair  as  the  spirit 
of  an  unclouded  morning,  as  sweet  and  fresh  as  the 
essence  of  springtime's  glamor,  more  beautiful  than 
even  his  heart  had  esteemed  her,  she  impressed  him 
as  she  extended  her  hand  with  an  emotional  revela- 
tion which  banished  doubt  from  his  heart  as  night 
shadows  flee  before  the  car  of  smiling  Aurora. 


136  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

He  noted  with  infinite  exultation  that  her  slender 
hand  quivered  like  a  frightened  bird  in  his  strong, 
wounding  clasp ;  that  her  lips  were  momentarily 
robbed  of  color  and  that  her  left  hand,  unconscious- 
ly, pressed  her  side,  as  if  in  strong  excitement. 

She  recovered  her  composure  instantly,  but  he  had 
read  the  fleeting  evidences  of  his  influence  and  was 
elevatedly  triumphant.  She  led  him  to  Jean  with 
due  formality.  Jean  lifted  her  hands,  dripping  with 
the  juice  of  a  melon  she  had  been  quartering  and 
warned  him  of  their  condition ;  yet  she  welcomed 
him  with  unfeigned  pleasure  and  introduced  him, 
with  cordial  impressment,  to  her  guests,  the  minister 
of  Kissic-Dale  kirk  and  his  wife,  the  beloved  cousin 
Janet  and  a  party  who  had  accompanied  her  on  a 
week's  end  visit  to  Ruth. 

The  party,  besides  Janie  Bethune,  consisted  of 
her  brother  Robert,  her  betrothed,  Duncan  MacLeod, 
and  Malcolm  MacAfee  from  beyond  Craig  Rhonie, 
the  post  office  of  a  settlement  on  Buie's  Creek. 

The  minister  and  his  wife  were  making  their  semi- 
annual visitation  to  Jean;  jMalcolm  had  joined  Dun- 
can there  to  renew  memories  of  the  days  when  they 
were  college  mates,  and  he  was  the  life  of  the  party, 
with  his  restless,  quaint  humor  and  boyish  wit. 

They,  with  one  accord,  welcomed  the  new  arrival ; 
and  soon  the  minister  had  appropriated  him  and  was 
probing  him  for  news  of  the  world  beyond  the  sand- 
hills, which  horizoned  the  scope  of  his  life  and 
labors.  Jean,  beaming  hospitality  upon  all,  impar- 
tially, found  an  opportunity  to  address  him,  with: 
"We  did  not  know  you  had  returned  from  your 
holiday  trip,  Mr.  Phillips." 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  137 

"I  came  back  to  the  camp  several  days  ago,  but 
this  was  my  first  leisure  in  which  I  could  come  to 
see  you  and  deliver  the  messages  my  mother  and 
sister  intrusted  to  me ;  especially  the  sincere  thanks 
of  my  sister  for  the  flowers  she  appreciated  so 
much,"  he  responded,  his  mind  relieved  by  repeating 
the  formula  he  had  arranged  when  planning  the 
visit. 

The  few  remaining  hours  of  the  afternoon  passed 
happily,  at  times  merrily.  The  minister  was  jovial ; 
Malcom  JMacAfee  fairly  scintillated  mischief  and 
mirth,  as  the  mood  swayed  him  to  either  extreme. 
He  was  an  unique  young  Scotchman,  his  nervous  in- 
telligence portrayed  in  piercing,  dark  brown  eyes,  a 
high  receding  forehead,  crowned  by  a  mat  of  closely 
curling  auburn  hair  of  the  most  glistening  shade  of 
that  facile  term. 

He  was  constantly  showing  his  white  teeth  in 
good-humored  grins,  and  his  vivid,  restless  mind 
grasped  the  most  subtle  details  of  existing  actualities 
He  was  jubilant  in  being  there  beneath  the  broad 
roof-tree  that  had  sheltered  him  at  intervals  since 
his  early  boyhood  ;  and  he  recited  with  simple  pathos 
infantile  reminiscences  of  hours  spent  at  Kissic-Dale 
in  the  days  when  Jean  and  Jamie  constituted  the 
family. 

Edwin  marvelled  at  their  simple  happiness  and 
appreciation  of  simple  details,  their  serene  indiffer- 
ence to  competitive  conditions  beyond  their  im- 
mediate environment.  They  were  not  impressed  by 
the  prestige  of  his  affiliation  with  a  realm  wholly 
foreign  to  Gaelic  circles.  They  accepted  him  as  a 
welcome  guest,  made  him  one  of  themselves  for  the 


138  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

passing  moment,  and  rendered  him  unfailing 
courtesy;  but  he  reaHzed,  for  all  that,  that  in  their 
estimation,  he  was  an  alien  to  their  race  and  clannish 
ties,  neighborly  and  socially. 

Ruth,  though,  studied  him,  furtively,  timidly.  She 
noted  that  he  was,  indeed,  very  handsome  and 
winning,  that  he  wore  a  new  white  flannel  suit,  a 
fresh  style  of  neckwear  and  faddish  tennis  shoes ; 
that  he  had  lost  the  tan  and  slight  roughness  ac- 
quired during  the  midsummer  heat ;  and  that  his 
glance  sought  hers  tenderly,  ceaselessly. 

She  was  also  earnestly  solving  a  personal  heart 
problem  which  had  surprised  and  puzzled  her  in- 
tensely. His  presence  had  vivified  her  realization 
of  the  marvellous  emotions  she  had  experienced. 
Just  then  she  was  conscious  of  a  peace  indescribable, 
a  fluttering,  sensitive  joy  pervaded  with  delicious 
appreciation  of  every  phase  of  life's  fair  landscape, 
a  permeating,  volatile  happiness  that  had  immeasur- 
ably enriched  the  boon  of  living. 

"There  is  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  Love's  young  dream," 

and  no  other  joy  which  can  surcharge  the  heart  with 
an  intensity  that  so  mysteriously  resembles  pain ; 
and  intensity  does  not  promote  hilarity,  therefore 
Ruth  sat  where  tall  ferns  and  swaying  vines  afforded 
some  seclusion  and  framed  her  a  picture  it  was  a 
delight  to  behold,  even  with  the  indifference  bred  of 
fortuitous  scrutiny. 

In   his    prolonged    absence    her   heart   had    held 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  139 

memories  of  Edwin  which  had  merged  into  a  full- 
blown idealism  and  were  the  source  of  innumerable 
rose-lighted  dreams  and  awakenings ;  the  dawning 
of  enigmatical  moods  as  variable  as  an  April  sky, 
and  as  optimistic. 

When  elongated  shadows  bridged  the  valley  and 
lay  upon  the  eastern  slope,  when  troops  of  fowls 
from  field  and  orchard  wended  perchward,  and 
bevies  of  pigeons  circled  above  the  lawn,  deviously 
en  route  to  the  cote,  the  group  of  guests,  by  un- 
spoken selection,  disintegrated. 

Janie  and  her  lover  strolled  the  lawn  and,  finally, 
moored  themselves  to  a  rustic  seat  by  the  rose  arbor. 
Jean  led  the  minister  and  his  wife  to  the  poultry  yard 
where  the  feathered  creatures  of  her  household  were 
mobilized  to  receive  their  evening's  ration  of  food. 
Robert  Bethune  repaired  to  the  barn,  where  his 
favorite  horse  was  stabled ;  and  Malcom  MacAfee 
soon  felt  detrop  with  Edwin  and  Ruth,  whose  re- 
marks were  mere  monosyllabic  utterances  to  his 
spirited  attempts  to  converse.  He  arose  and  sup- 
pressing a  relaxing  yawn,  followed  Robert  to  the 
stables  on  mincing  feet,  which  seemed  to  scorn  the 
gravel  they  pressed,  protestingly. 

Then  Edwin  turned  to  Ruth  with  an  accession  of 
tenderness  in  his  voice. 

"Let  us  go  and  feed  the  pigeons,  Ruth.  Why 
should  we  alone  be  idle  and  let  your  pets  go  supper- 
less?"  he  suggested,  with  open  challenge  to  her  shy 
avoidance  of  him  since  his  arrival. 

"I  had  forgotten  them!"  she  returned,  remorse- 
fully. "Thank  you  for  reminding  me  of  an  impor- 
tant duty." 


140  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

She  left  him  to  procure  the  grain  Tony  always 
provided ;  when  she  returned,  he  claimed  the  small 
basket  and  led  the  way  through  the  halls,  over  the 
rear  veranda,  down  the  steps,  trellis-sheltered,  on  by 
the  circle  of  evergreens  and  the  hedge  of  clipped 
cedars.  He  opened  the  wicket  gate;  beyond  lay  the 
rose  garden ;  a  rose-laden  arch  spanned  the  entrance. 
As  he  held  the  gate  ajar,  she  ducked  her  head  as 
she  passed  beneath  the  rose  arch,  avoiding  carefully 
the  straying  branch  bearing  crimson  roses. 

He  laughed  reminiscently  and  endeavored  to  cap- 
ture her  drooping  glance,  but  she  eluded  him  and 
hastened  on  to  an  exit  at  the  opposite  limit  of  the 
pampered  garden,  which  was  a  heavy  turnstile  it 
required  some  strength  to  turn. 

"Wait,"  he  insisted,  still  laughing,  and  she  obeyed 
reluctantly,  as  he  deliberately  opened  the  way  and 
permitted  her  to  pass.  She  preceded  him  down  the 
path  to  the  cote,  where  an  innumerable  melee  of 
silvery-winged  and  white-feathered  creatures  circled 
around  the  cote,  perched  high  upon  a  single  stout 
post,  braced  sturdily ;  bright  eyes  peered  hungrily 
from  every  tiny  doorway  of  the  many-roomed  man- 
sion ;  whiffing  wings  bore  a  multitude  to  meet  Ruth 
with  welcome  cries,  ogling  entreaties  and  cooing  im- 
patience. Some  poised  upon  her  shoulders,  quaintly 
questioning  her  empty  hands ;  one  snow  white 
favorite  poised  presumptively  upon  her  head,  pecked 
at  the  white  fuchsias  she  wore  in  her  hair  and  craned 
its  graceful  white  neck  in  disapproval  of  the  un- 
palatable ornaments.  Others,  too  numerous  for  in- 
dividual favor,  in  swaying  bevies  swooped  to  the 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  141 

ground,  a  rippling  turmoil  of  plaining,  pleading  crea- 
tures, voicing  their  haste  to  be  fed. 

"See,  how  hungry  they  must  be !"  she  exclaimed, 
spreading  her  hands  to  ward  off  a  threatened 
mobbing,  as  he  leisurely  approached,  idly  swinging 
the  basket. 

"What  greedy  things  they  are,  to  be  sure,"  he 
remarked,  critically,  and  stood  aloof,  enjoying  her 
discomfiture. 

"Oh,  no !"  she  defended  her  pets,  "but  they  are, 
indeed,  very  hungry." 

"You  have  spoiled  them.  Let  me  give  them  a 
lesson  in  patience,"  he  mentored,  negatively. 

Thus  tantalizing  her,  he  withheld  the  grain  until 
a  shrewd  old  bird  found  the  basket  and  led  others  to 
struggle  with  him  for  the  food  they  knew  was  a  law- 
ful possession.  Instantly,  he  was  enveloped  in  a 
cloud  of  fluttering  wings  and  flashing  feathers,  and 
he  abandoned  the  basket,  which  she  recovered  and 
scattered  the  grain  with  a  trained  skill  in  giving  each 
bird  a  portion. 

On  their  return,  he  detained  her  in  the  rose  gar- 
den, the  loveliest  spot  in  all  fair  Kissic-Dale,  bird- 
haunted,  perfumed  with  the  incense  of  rarest  roses, 
remotely  secluded  by  the  stalwart  trees  in  the  rear  of 
the  mansion  and  the  towering  magnolias  whose 
glistening  foliage  accentuated  the  glowing  colors  of 
the  fragrant-hearted  roses. 

He  swept  the  scene  with  appreciative  eyes.  "I 
never  knew  such  a  Paradise  of  bloom  and  color," 
he  declared,  wistfully. 

"It  is  an  old-time  ideal,"  Ruth  responded,  "the 
cherished  pet  of  a  lonely  woman,"  she  added, 
seriously. 


142  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

"A  sweet  ideal  and  a  beautiful  scene,"  he  com- 
mented, musingly.  The  refulgence  of  a  gaudily 
tinted  sunset,  a  brave  array  of  orangean  and  ame- 
thystean  splendor  transformed  its  aspect  and  deified 
Ruth  in  her  shimmering  white  dress,  as  she  stood 
facing  the  west  flaming  its  roseate  vapors. 

"Let  us  rest  here  and  enjoy  the  sunset,"  he  sug- 
gested, indicating  a  wrought-iron  seat  sheltered  by 
a  magnolia. 

She  reflected  that  she  would  not  be  more  alone 
with  him  there  than  anywhere  else  while  everyone 
was  engaged  elsewhere;  and  it  was  very  pleasant 
there  with  him,  in  the  sunset  glow,  amidst  the  roses. 
Distantly,  came  the  soothing  echoes  of  scattered  life, 
remote,  but  yet  with  a  comfortable  nearness  that 
precluded  the  dreariness  of  a  complete  solitude  like 
the  woodland  below  the  spring.  The  tinkle  of  sheep- 
bells,  the  lowing  of  kine,  the  wooing  notes  of  the 
pigeons,  the  rustle  of  foliage,  the  raspings  of  belated 
"katydids."  The  tones  of  Alalcom  and  Robert  down 
at  the  stables  mingled  in  a  comforting  concord  of 
sounds,  as  she  sat  with  him  where  the  old  magnolia 
drooped  its  branches. 

He  sighed  with  the  fullness  of  a  great  content.  "I 
am  so  happy  just  now.  Would  that  such  perfect 
bliss  could  last  forever!  I  was  never  really  happy 
until  I  knew  you.  I  cannot  explain  it  very  lucidly, 
but  I  know  it  is  true.  Answer  me  truly,  Ruth.  Were 
you  not  glad  to  have  me  return  to  you?"  he  ques- 
tioned, his  voice  liquid  with  appeal  and  persuasion. 
She  flushed  and  thrilled  as  if  he  had  oflfered  a  caress. 
She  moved  and  faced  him  to  repulse  the  fancied 
intimacy. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  143 

"I  was  very  glad,  indeed,  to  welcome  you,"  she 
replied  briefly,  but  truthfully. 

"Why  were  you  glad?  Tell  me,  please,"  he  per- 
sisted, with  blandishing  voice. 

His  eyes  held  her  tenderly,  in  a  glance  in  which 
his  sincere  adoration  was  unveiled  and  insistent,  for, 
from  the  depths  of  his  soul  arose  an  intense  longing 
to  win  and  possess  her ;  a  deep  humility  augmented 
his  sincerity. 

She  lifted  her  dark  eyes  timorously  but  bravely. 
"I  do  not  know,"  she  said  simply,  so  artlessly,  he 
recalled  his  first  impression  of  her  unalloyed  inno- 
cence, recalled  his  recollection  of  Galatea. 

He  fell  silent  to  study  her  and  feast  upon  each 
detail  of  her  delicious  charm,  her  naive  behavior. 
He  divined  her  perplexity  in  defining  that  which  had 
so  recently  been  revealed  to  her  heart.  He  ceased 
his  urgency  to  know  her  esteem  of  him  and  his  pre- 
tensions ;  he  was  happy  with  the  assurance,  despite 
her  past  antagonism  and  misgivings,  that  he  had  in- 
scribed, indelibly,  on  the  white  page  of  her  life,  his 
signet  to  seal  as  his  own,  peculiarly,  the  treasure  of 
her  virginal  afifections. 

Fatefully.  in  the  wake  of  the  a-ssurance,  came 
troubled  thoughts,  as  a  Nemesis  pursuing  a  thief  of 
forbidden  sacramentals ;  suggestions  of  future  com- 
plications, prophesies  of  the  hour  which  would  re- 
veal his  dishonor. 

Ruth  did  not  name  her  emotions  happiness ;  rather 
a  soulful  revery  was  evoked  by  his  presence,  his 
wooing  voice,  as  the  sunset  gates  barred  an  Elysian 
whose  gold  and  violet  flames  illumined  a  terrestrial 
Eden  and  the  rainbow-tinted  west  seemed  a  symbol 
of  an  affiliation  of  celestial  and  earthly  joy. 


144  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

The  radiance  of  the  scene  diffused  its  subtle 
beauty  over  her  countenance,  the  shadow  of  curving 
lashes  swept  the  rose-tinge  of  her  cheeks.  He  wor- 
shipped at  the  shrine  of  her  spirituelle  loveliness, 
silently ;  for  as  his  doubts  as  to  winning  her  dis- 
solved, and  his  heart  sang  a  paen  of  passionate  tri- 
umph, Its  ecstasy  was  assailed  by  a  menacing  shadow 
of  the  unalterable  past,  his  duality.  It  was  Nemesis, 
indeed,  which  projected  upon  the  scope  of  his  mind 
memories  of  Maude  and  his  recent  promises  to  her. 

The  keenest  thrust  of  all  came  with  the  remem- 
brance of  his  recent  interview  with  Maude's  parents, 
to  which  she  had  led  him  with  the  impetus  of  her 
own  imperial  will  and  he  had  submitted  weakly. 
With  swift  perspection  his  mind  contrasted  Kissic- 
Dale  and  its  wholesome  culture,  its  humane  sim- 
plicity and  sincerity,  its  piety  and  Puritanical  refine- 
ment, its  lineal  dignity  and  mellowed  beauty,  with 
the  crash  aspirations,  the  heedless  ambition,  the 
reckoning  pride  and  gaudy  ostentation  of  the  crudely 
new  home  and  riches  of  the  Endistons.  He  knew, 
and  the  knowledge  brought  a  repugnant  twinge,  that 
it  all  was  the  result  of  extortionate  profits  upon  the 
labors  of  puny  men,  women  and  children,  whom  the 
iron  tongue  of  the  bells  upon  the  successful  man's 
factories  haled  to  hard,  unremunerative  toil,  daily, 
through  sweltering  heat,  amid  winter's  piercing  cold, 
crushed  beneath  the  wheels  of  the  Juggernaut  car, 
successful  men  ride  to  the  acclaim  of  unreflecting 
society. 

In  that  moment  of  revulsive  emotions,  his  former 
aspirations  and  standards  collapsed  finally;  in  his 
heart  arose  an  invincible  growth  of  rectitude  and 
principle. 


I 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  145 

As  if  in  occult  sympathy,  Ruth  smiled  tenderly, 
sweetly,  as  she  comprehended  the  sad  solemnity  of 
his  expression.  His  eyes  flamed  with  instant  re- 
sponse. 

"I  wish  my  mother  and  sister  could  see  you,"  he 
murmured,  so  irrelevantly,  yet  with  so  much  infer- 
ence she  blushed,  and  her  glance  reverted  to  the  sun- 
set sky.  Each  was  speechless  in  the  solemn  rapture 
of  the  moment,  as  : 

"A  Siren  of  the  West  unrolled  her  hair. 
And  on  the  scene  a  mass  of  gold. 

The  radiance  rested; 
In  the  hour  when  sunbeams  fade  and  die, 

And  twilight  shrouds  them  with  a  pall; 
When  hushed  is  every  songster's  cry, 

And  hesitating  dewdrops  fall 
To  touch  with  heaven's  tears  the  rose. 

And  scatter  fleeting  pearl-drops  shy." 

Through  luminous  mists  of  twilight  they  moved, 
as  they  left  the  garden.  At  the  wicket  gate  he  plucked 
a  crimson  rose,  a  luscious  bud  with  folded  petals. 
He  slipped  it  through  a  buttonhole  of  his  coat.  "For 
remembrance,"  he  informed  her.  She  stroked  the 
rose  with  a  consecrating  touch  as  her  eyes  sought 
his,  wistfully.  She  was  treading  a  new  and  untried 
realm,  in  which  she  was  a  timid  stranger. 

He  smiled  reassuringly,  his  eyes  lustrous  and 
glowing  wnth  deepest  admiration.  A  gem  scintil- 
lated light  on  her  white  hand,  a  costly  sheen  of 
drapery  accentuated  the  grace  of  her  slender  form, 
substantial  wealth  was  her  rightful  portion,  yet  a 


146  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

dove-like  humility  clothed  her  features  and  nestled 
in  the  violet  depths  of  her  pensively  shaded  eyes, 
which  mirrored  the  sublimity  of  the  purity  of  her 
soul. 

He  wore  the  rose  during  the  short  but  exception- 
ally pleasant  evening.  It  glowed  against  the  back- 
ground of  his  white  flannel  coat  as  "a  crimson 
ensign  of  a  warm  heart,"  so  Malcom  MacAfee  ex- 
pressed his  romantic  conception  of  its  appearance. 

"We  have  had  a  letter  from  Donald. .  Did  Ruth 
inform  you?"  Jean  said  to  him  when  he  was  saying 
good  night.  "And  he  has  secured  another  precep- 
tress for  Ruth.  He  found  her  at  the  school  he  has 
been  attending  all  summer.  He  will  go  North  from 
the  university,  and  begin  a  post-graduate  course^of 
studv.    He  sent  his  regards  to  you,  Mr.  Phillips." 

"I  am  sincerely  glad  to  hear  from  him.  I  have  a 
grateful  remembrance  of  the  friend  who  introduced 
me  to  you,  my  dear  friend,"  he  returned  gallantly, 
as  he  bowed  low  in  parting  from  his  gracious 
hostess. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Golden  Days — The  Bridge — The  Last  Rose  of 

Summer. 

"And  like  a  lily  on  a  river  floating, 
She  floats  on  the  river  of  his  thoughts.    ..." 

".      .      .     In  her  heart  the  dew  of  youth, 
On  her  lips  the  smile  of  truth.     .      . " 

"Gazing  with  a  timid  glance. 
On  the  brooklet's  swift  advance.     .      .     ." 

— Selected. 

"October  was  reigning. 
Summer  was  waning, 
The  rich  color  fading. 
From  bloom  and  foliage." 

The  sunshine  was  gold  and  amber,  the  atmosphere 
veiled  in  a  mystic  drapery  shot  with  a  gilding  of 
glowing  sunlight  and  holding  in  its  ethereal  purity 
a  wine  of  tonicity  which  antidoted  stnnmer's  enerva- 
tions and  lotus  dreaminess.  The  corn  fields  were  as 
marshalled  soldiers,  whose  disciplined  ranks  bore 
arms  of  yellow-husked  ears,  ripe  unto  harvest.  Bob- 
whites  led  their  full-fledged  broods  among  ripened 
pease ;  the  cotton  fields  gleamed  as   softly  spread, 


148  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

broad  snow-drifts;  the  song-birds  were  emigrating 
Southward,  fleeing  by  myriads  before  the  icy  breath 
of  the  frost  king  then  campaigning  the  inhospitable 
Northern  cHmes.  All  night  the  stars  burned  amber 
fires  and  tlie  autumnal  harvest  moon  glowed  as  a 
spheroid  of  burnished  gold. 

At  Kissic-Dale,  the  maples  were  huge  bouquets  of 
intense  color,  of  gleaming,  golden  yellow,  which 
dazzled  the  eyes  with  its  ephemeral  splendor ;  pleas- 
ing the  more  by  contrast  with  the  ever-green  sedate- 
ness  of  fir,  arborvitae,  and  magnolia.  Shaggy 
chrysanthemums  divided  homage  with  rare  standard 
roses,  whose  vitality  would  survive  until  midwinter's 
solid  freezes;  in  every  sighing  breeze  gold  and 
brown  leaves  fluttered  to  the  green  sward  and  rested 
briefly  upon  the  bosom  of  Mother  Earth. 

Out  in  the  forest,  the  scrub  oaks  and  bits  of 
swamp-land,  premonitioned  the  bleak,  leafless  days 
then  imminent.  The  sap  ran  sluggishly  in  the  full- 
veined  pines,  the  smoke  arose  leisurely  from  the 
black-throated  distilleries.  It  was  a  period  when 
the  mind  regretfully  bids  farewell  to  the  buoyant 
and  volatile  pleasures  of  summertime  and  heroically 
turns  to  less  evanescent  interests. 

A  warm,  bright  afternoon  in  the  last  days  of 
October,  Edwin  Phillips  sat  with  Jean  and  Mary  by 
the  sitting-room  hearth,  on  which  smoldered  an  oak 
chunk,  the  remains  of  a  more  pretentious  fire  built 
in  the  early  morning.  A  restful  somnolence  per- 
vaded the  room,  and  in  the  cheerful  atmosphere  of 
semi-idleness  Jean  stitched  daintily  and  Mary  Gra- 
ham knitted  negligently. 

He  was  almost  a  stranger  to  the  room  that  was 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  149 

peculiarly  the  domain  of  the  domestic  circle  of  the 
household.  Family  portraits  adorned  the  walls ;  the 
furniture  was  massive  and  polished  to  a  mirror-like 
surface  ;  the  carpet,  bright-hued  and  substantial.  The 
room  was  even  less  modern  than  the  parlor,  and  he 
viewed  it  with  some  curiosity,  divining  its  novel  and 
unfamiliar  individuality  partaking  of  a  past  preced- 
ing his  generation. 

He  offered  to  hold  the  skein  Mary  was  winding, 
as  it  lay  circling  upon  her  lap  until  the  soft  ball  had 
absorbed  the  last  of  the  strand ;  he  was  patient,  and 
responded  aptly  to  Jean's  bright  observations  and 
Mary's  demure  utterances.  Through  polished  panes 
he  glimpsed  the  lawn,  empty  then,  save  that  Ruth's 
governess  was  seated  where  a  full  sweep  of  sunshine 
burnished  her  auburn-tinged,  brown  hair;  she  had 
evidently  sought  that  remote  spot  because  the  sun 
favored  it  at  the  hour  when  she  was  at  leisure  to 
bask  in  its  rays. 

He  did  not  fancy  the  governess,  a  Mrs.  Anderson, 
who,  it  seemed  to  him,  possessed  an  unwarranted 
curiosity  concerning  him  and  the  country  that  was 
the  scene  of  his  past.  He  had  made  it  a  habit  to 
avoid  her  in  his  frequent  trips  to  Kissic-Dale,  and 
her  spying  espionage  had  made  him  very  wary,  in- 
deed, in  his  wooing  of  Ruth.  He  feared  her  as  one 
fears  a  concealed  explosive,  which  may  burst  at  any 
moment  and  carry  devastation  in  its  wake.  She  was 
broadly  acquainted  in  society,  and  Maude  was  one 
whose  light  could  never  be  hid  under  a  bushel. 

Ruth  had  gone  to  David's  to  visit  his  invalid  wife. 
Quenna  was  fond  of  her  white  people,  and  it  en- 
couraged her  to  bear  her  sufferings  when  any  of  the 


150  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

family  visited  her ;  so  Ruth  had  combined  an  outing 
with  a  visit  to  the  invalid,  and  surely  she  was  pro- 
longing her  stay;  she  had  been  gone  quite  a  while 
when  he  came. 

From  an  eastern  window  of  the  room,  a  vista  re- 
vealed David's  cottage  on  the  distant  rim  of  the 
forest.  Mary  had  resumed  her  knitting  from  the 
freshly  wound  ball,  ere  he  spied  a  graceful  figure 
passing  from  the  cottage.  The  governess  was  still 
poring  over  her  book  in  the  vivid  sunshine  flooding 
her  retreat. 

A  few  moments  later  he  was  strolling  along  the 
cherry  lane  into  the  public  road,  which  led  by 
Sandy's  cottage  and  down  the  way  to  the  bridge  that 
spanned  Holly  Creek.  There  he  paused  where  a 
weeping-willow  trailed  branches  that  swept  the 
flat  plank  which  topped  the  railing  enclosing  the 
floor  of  the  bridge.  He  climbed  to  a  seat  on  the 
railing,  and  in  the  seclusion  thus  secured  awaited 
Ruth's  tardy  coming.  Not  aware  of  the  impending 
tryst,  she  loitered  pleasurably.  She  gathered  purple- 
tinged,  weed  blossoms  growing  in  the  grass-fringed 
wayside ;  she  stood  statuesque  to  heed  the  shrill 
chirp  of  the  crickets,  the  pipe  of  the  frogs,  the  weird, 
tiny  voices  of  hidden  insects.  She  carried  a  white 
silk  shawl,  heavily  fringed,  but  she  wore  neither  hat 
nor  bonnet.  The  sheen  of  her  bright  hair  shone  as 
a  condensated  mass  of  the  nebulous  mist  enmeshing 
the  golden  rays  of  the  globular  sun  beaming  radi- 
antly from  the  western  plane  of  the  sky,  as  she  de- 
scended the  path,  dreamily  viewing  the  inspiriting 
glamor  of  the  landscape,  where  the  glory  of  an 
autumnal  haze  "lay  like  a  robe  of  airiest  gossamer." 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  151 

He  evinced  no  impatience  that  she  loitered  so  aim- 
lessly; he  did  not  advance  to  meet  her  when  she 
paused  to  note  the  flight  of  a  bluebird  from  the  road- 
side hedge  and  stood  with  uplifted  gaze  to  watch  the 
passing  of  a  migratory  flock  of  birds  from  the 
moment  they  appeared  on  the  northern  horizon  until 
they  disappeared  far  away  beyond  the  southern 
limit  of  sight. 

Much  lay  in  the  motive  that  had  induced  him  to 
seek  Ruth,  to  plan  for  an  interview  where  there 
would  be  no  intrusion.  Such  an  interview  was  hard 
to  achieve  in  the  peculiarly  formal,  yet  informal 
family  circle  at  Kissic-Dale.  Besides  Mary  and  Jean, 
who  seemed  not  to  have  the  slightest  suspicion  that 
he  regarded  Ruth  otherwise  than  as  a  child  and  the 
pet  of  the  household,  there  was  the  omnipresent 
governess,  and  Sandy's  children  were  often  there 
since  the  installation  of  Airs.  Anderson  as  a  teacher. 

Since  that  August  eventide  he  had  proven  a  model 
lover,  gentle  and  considerate,  quick  to  divine  her 
sensitive  innocence  and  avoiding  shock  to  her  youth- 
ful and  romantic  ideas.  Although  quiet  and  con- 
tained by  temperament  and  training,  Ruth  had  been 
uniformly  kind  and  devoted,  but  her  maidenly  diffi- 
dence and  timid  susceptibilities  would  not  and  could 
not  encompass  unreckoning  passion. 

When  he  had  understood  her  character  and  the 
influences  which  had  molded  it,  his  respect  and  fears 
had  grown  in  ratio.  He  knew  then  that  he  had 
rather  lose  her  altogether  than  behold  the  light  of 
her  love  and  esteem  fade  into  contempt.  He  had 
spent  sleepless  nights  and  anxious  days  pondering 
the  situation,  and  had  become  convinced  that  pre- 
cipitation alone  would  assure  him  happiness. 


152  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

During  the  weeks  since  summer,  he  had  been  as 
one  that  dreams ;  as  one  safely  stranded  on  a 
"blessed  isle"  whose  atmosphere  banished  care 
magically  and  invoked  felicity ;  but  in  that  happy 
realm  a  spectre  had  arisen,  dark-browed,  imperative, 
menacing.  Maude  had  divined  that  his  regard  for 
her  was  not  so  absorbing  as  formerly,  and  the  sus- 
picion had  enhanced  the  value  of  his  acquisition. 
She  had  become  clamorous  for  the  fealty  of  his 
vows ;  and  he  was  afraid  of  J\'Iaude  and  her  assertive 
will. 

As  Ruth  finally  neared  the  bridge,  he  discovered 
that  she  was  smiling,  and  that  her  step  was  buoyant 
and  not  lagging  only  when  she  was  attracted  by  some 
object  she  viewed  with  interest.  As  she  ascended  to 
the  bridge  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  went  to  meet 
her.  He  enjoyed  her  surprise  and  confusion  at  his 
unexpected  appearance.  With  a  quick  breath,  her 
lips  parted  with  a  welcoming  smile,  her  eyes 
brimmed  with  happiness,  she  extended  both  hands  in 
impulsive  greeting.  He  led  her  to  a  place  where  the 
willows  secluded  them,  that  he  might  retain  her  hand 
in  his  clasp ;  and  leaning  on  the  railing,  their  eyes 
spoke  the  gladness  of  their  hearts  and  the  bliss  of  the 
moment.  She  was  blushing  rosily,  and  her  dark 
eyes  reflected  the  happiness  she  felt  in  his  presence. 

"You  are  quite  well,  Edwin  ?"  she  questioned,  with 
quaint  maturity  of  thovight. 

"Quite  well,"  he  echoed,  smiling  tenderly. 

"How  long  have  you  been  waiting  here?"  she 
asked,  analyzing  the  unexpected  tryst. 

"Just  as  long  as  you  have  tarried,"  he  reproached 
her.  "I  was  at  the  house  a  long  hour  before  I  came 
out  to  meet  you." 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  153 

"Oh,"  she  lamented,  "and  I  was  reading  poetry  to 
Quenna,  so  leisurely."    She  sighed  her  regret. 

"Poetry?"  he  cried,  discreditingly.  She  laughed 
merrily;  his  surprise  was  amusing. 

"Yes,  truly ;  Longfellow's  poems.  She  likes  them 
very  much,  especially  'Hiawatha'  and  a  few  others. 
She  says  they  soothe  her.  Perhaps  it  is  the  flowing 
smoothness  of  his  rhymes  and  the  picturesque  lan- 
guage ;  I  cannot  believe  it  is  because  of  a  poetical 
temperament ;  she  is  very  practical  and  material  in 
her  ideas."  Laughing  lightly,  in  exuberant  mood, 
she  unfolded  the  silken  shawl  and  disclosed  a  gilt- 
edged  volume,  with  "Jamie  MacKenzie"  stamped  in 
golden  letters  upon  the  cover.  The  most  trivial  idea 
seemed  to  accord  with  their  mood.  It  was  enough  to 
be  there  together  if  never  a  word  had  been  spoken. 

The  breeze  lifted  the  silken  hair  from  her  white 
forehead  and  smote  with  tingling  touch  the  fair 
mold  of  her  countenance.  The  sunshine  swept  be- 
yond them  to  break  in  golden  waves  upon  the  hill, 
crested  far  away  with  singing  pines ;  beneath  them 
the  water  gurgled  a  montonous  call,  but  she  did  not 
heed  the  shadowy  world  it  yet  reflected,  as  it  had 
done  when  she  had  stood  there  beside  Donald  and 
the  spring  skies  had  smiled  so  wooingly  above  and 
below ;  the  happy  reality  was  too  entrancing  and 
sufficing  to  admit  visionary  fancies.  He  influenced 
her  to  talk,  to  smile  and  blush,  to  radidate  pleasure 
and  content  with  the  worshipping  tenderness  of  his 
speech  and  glances.  He  tightened  the  clasp  which 
imprisoned  her  hand. 

"Ruth,  are  you  as  happy  when  I  am  away  as  when 
I  am  with  you  ?  Tell  me  truly ;  I  do  not  ask  idly," 
he  urged  her,  with  wistful  earnestness. 


154  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

"You  render  me  very  happy,  indeed,"  she  answered 
truthfully,  still  radiant  and  smiling,  still  meeting  with 
brave  eyes  his  serious,  fond  glances. 

"Do  you  never  reflect  how  it  will  be  with  us  when 
circumstances  divide  us?"  His  voice  was  hoarse 
and  strained,  his  hand  crushed  hers  convulsively. 

Her  smile  faded  in  the  wan  gloom  of  a  prescient 
sorrow.  Her  heart  rebelled  restively.  "Oh,  Edwin, 
we  are  so  happy!  Why  let  the  future  disturb  us 
just  now?"  she  exhorted  him,  tenderly.  She  did  not 
wish  to  recall  the  chill  that  assailed  her  heart  each 
time  college  was  mentioned  by  Jean  and  Mrs.  Ander- 
son. That  alone  had  seemed  a  menace  to  her  un- 
limited happiness. 

"We  must  consider  it,  Ruth;  already  I  feel  im- 
pending sorrow  of  parting.  We  have  been  too  utterly 
happy  for  it  to  last;  something  always  defeats  per- 
fect happiness,"  he  persisted,  sadly.  "Business  com- 
pels my  absence.  I  am  going  away  next  week  to  the 
seaport  town  which  has  been  exporting  our  naval 
stores,  to  straighten  up  the  year's  business  of  our 
firm.  I  do  not  know  how  long  it  will  take  me  to  do 
so.  Then  I  have  promised  to  be  at  home  for  the 
holidays ;  in  justice  to  my  mother  I  must  fulfill  the 
promise.  After  then,  we  will  enlarge  our  work,  and 
I  shall  be  in  another  section,  where  we  will  install  a 
sawmill  plant.  Jennie  will  not  be  here  another  year, 
and  her  absence  from  the  camp  will  render  it  unfit 
for  civilized  habitation.  I  am  to  board  at  IMr.  Dal- 
rymple's,  but  I  shall  not  be  there  regularly  until 
spring." 

"Well?"  Ruth  interrogated,  thoughtfully. 

"It  all  means  that  I  cannot  see  you  often,  hardly 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  155 

ever,"  he  said,  dolefully,  and  with  strict  surveillance 
of  her  reception  of  his  statements. 

"I  shall  miss  you  very  much  in  the  near  future,  but 
after  then,  I,  too,  shall  be  away.  I  think  Aunt  Jean 
will  send  me  to  college  the  first  of  next  year,"  she 
returned  with  forced  resignation.  Tears  suffused 
her  vision,  pressing  the  barrier  of  drooping  lashes. 
Her  brave  smile  was  but  the  ghost  of  the  ones  so 
previous,  which  had  been  the  embodiment  of  care- 
free happiness.  A  gray,  chill  shadow  seemed  to  have 
settled  upon  the  landscape,  dimming  its  golden  cheer 
and  robing  it  with  a  dreariness  incomprehensible. 

His  lips  went  white  when  she  spoke  of  the  plans 
made  for  her  future,  but  he  rallied  bravely. 

"I  am  broken-hearted  when  I  contemplate  the 
inevitable,  but  what  is  there  for  us  but  dreary 
absence,  ceaseless  heartache,  if — if " 

His  lips  again  were  drained  of  color,  his  eyes 
darkened  with  intensity  of  suspense ;  he  trembled 
with  his  fear  of  the  venture  as  he  whispered  con- 
strainedly, "if  we  do  not  marry." 

His  eyes  entreated,  his  breath  fanned  her  cheek. 
She  stared,  unbelieving. 

"Marry  me,  Ruth.  Give  yourself  to  me  irrevoc- 
ably, so  that  we  can  be  together  constantly,  fearing 
no  parting,  bearing  no  heartache,  no  longing  unful- 
filled ;  make  me  the  happiest,  most  grateful  mortal 
on  earth,"  he  urged  hoarsely,  his  voice  freighted 
with  unlimited  appeal  and  persuasion. 

She  still  stared  blankly,  groping  blindly  for  his 
meaning,  stunned  by  the  shock  and  surprise  of  his 
vehement  words. 

"I  love  you,  love  you  so  much,  Ruth  !    I  want  you 


156  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

for  my  own  as  long  as  life  lasts;  nothing  else  in  this 
world  matters  to  me.  Can  you  not  understand, 
dearest  ?"  he  ended,  meeting  her  dazed  look  with  re- 
assuring tenderness.  But  she  was  speechless,  every 
thought  submerged,  in  a  cloud  of  bewidlerment.  Her 
ideas  of  marriage  were  vague  and  immature ;  indeed, 
she  had  never  contemplated  it  in  regard  to  herself ; 
the  happiness  she  had  found  through  him  had  held 
no  prophecy  of  connubial  bliss ;  only  of  blessed  mo- 
ments added  to  the  rapturous  estate  of  youth. 

He  continued  to  urge  her,  pleading  desperately 
when  she  shrank  in  dismay  from  his  vehemence  as 
his  meaning  was  unfolded  to  her  benighted  mind 
with  the  violence  of  sensitive  repugnance  in  its  most 
exquisite  form.  She  withdrew  her  hand  gently,  but 
firmly ;  pale  and  drooping,  she  leaned  against  the 
railing  and  her  eyes  fell  diffidently  to  the  midulating 
water,  which  caricatured  their  reflection  with  dis- 
torting ripples.  An  inexplicable  emotion  compressed 
her  heart,  as,  awed  and  afraid,  she  stood  at  the 
threshold  of  the  weird  mystery  which  attaches  to  the 
manifest  destiny  of  humankind. 

Life,  at  best,  for  the  pure  in  heart  and  those  of 
chaste  sensibilities,  is  a  succession  of  surprise  and 
exploration ;  the  structure  of  knowledge  a  many- 
roomed  edifice.  From  the  nursery  to  the  tomb,  mor- 
tals are  rushed  from  one  apartment  to  another  by 
tasking  time,  who  drives  mercilessly  and  inexorably, 
passing  Rubicons  which  bring  a  pang  of  Death,  the 
sad  burial  of  some  phase  of  life. 

The  blush  that  had  died  her  cheeks  w'as  the  finality 
of  her  childhood.  In  the  dark,  leaf-stained  water 
all  the  bright  years  of  the  care-free  past  swept  away 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  157 

in  a  swirling,  dizzying  flight,  rushing  with  the  youth- 
ful tide  of  the  brook  toward  the  ancient  mighty  sea 
that  would  engulf  its  purity  and  bubbling  freedom  in 
its  briny,  bitter  depths,  its  unrelenting  immensity. 

His  suggestion  of  marriage  rendered  her  heart 
cold  and  ravished  of  all  its  buoyant  happiness,  and, 
aching  with  the  vision  of  sacrifices  ;  it  was  a  mandate 
to  lay  down  every  aim  of  her  youth,  to  step  from  the 
gentle  charge  of  Jean  into  an  untried  realm  of  mys- 
tery and  responsibility. 

Her  mind  gave  a  swift,  panoramic  leap  into  such 
a  future,  with  its  depths  of  ignorance,  and  she  drew 
yet  farther  away  from  him  and  his  solicitous  eager- 
ness. He  forced  her  to  face  him  by  grasping  her 
hands  and  holding  them  firmly,  he  searched  her  eyes 
wistfully  for  a  moment,  then  dropped  her  hands  and 
leaned  upon  the  railing,  listlessly. 

"Ruth,"  he  said  quietly,  "I  believed  that  you  loved 
me.  Forgive  me  if  I  have  wounded  you,  or  offended. 
I  would  not  hurt  you  willingly,"  he  continued,  when 
she  stood  silent,  with  averted  eyes  and  so  pale  and 
troubled.  "But  has  not  your  good  common  sent 
grasped  the  fact  that  love  preludes  marriage  as  a 
happy  finale?  To  love  one  being  only,  to  give  your 
very  soul  into  their  keeping,  means  a  union  of  lives 
as  well  as  of  hearts.  The  future  holds  nothing  for 
me  without  you ;  I  desire  no  moment  of  life  that  you 
do  not  share.  I  am  ready  for  any  sacrifice,  any  effort 
for  your  sake,  and  love  alone  prompts  every  motive 
and  desire.  Ruth,  I  love  you !"  he  concluded,  simply, 
but  with  the  pathos  of  heartfelt  sincerity  strangling 
his  voice. 

Ruth  was  dumb  with  the  tragic  element  of  the  in- 


158  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

terview ;  his  tones,  words  and  behavior  were  so  bur- 
dened with  reproach  and  intense  appeal ;  what  had 
been  a  love-lighted  drama,  a  blissful  swell  of  har- 
monious felicity,  was  suddenly  robed  as  a  tragedy 
of  stern  deeds,  and,  perhaps,  fateful  issues.  Tears 
stung  her  eyes,  her  heart  beat  in  violent  throbs ;  she 
trod  unstable  ground  in  a  dizzying  maze  of  con- 
fusing ideas  and  clashing  emotions. 

"Look  at  me,  Ruth.  I  will  be  heard  and  answered. 
Say  if  you  do  not  love  me?  I  dare  you  to  deny  it. 
I  know  you  love  me !"  he  said,  with  harsh  insistence. 
He  drew  her  hands  from  her  face,  which  she  had 
draped  in  shame  and  sorrow,  but  he  instantly  re- 
leased them.  Troubled  and  desperate,  he  at  last  de- 
sisted, to  pace  the  floor  of  the  bridge  restlessly,  while 
she  gazed  stupidly  down  upon  the  unresting  water, 
where  fallen  leaves,  brown  and  amber  rifts,  rode 
helplessly  upon  the  rushing  tide;  but  no  golden 
argosies  cruised  fanciful  spaces.  Stern  reality 
reared  stony  barriers  to  shut  off  the  realm  of  fancies. 
Marriage  was  a  very,  very  solemn  problem ;  death 
had  seemed  barely  of  so  serious  import  or  so  fateful 
in  consequences. 

Her  mind  evinced  its  logical  training.  She  stood 
erect,  slie  suppressed  her  distaste  of  the  subject  and 
smiled,  while  her  lips  yet  trembled,  as  he  came  back 
from  his  aimless  tramp  back  and  forth  over  the  re- 
stricted surface  of  the  bridge  roadway. 

"Please  tell  me,  Edwin,  what  has  prompted  you 
to  such  rash  conclusions?  Will  not  our  love  bind 
us  as  firmly  if  we  are  absent  from  each  other  as 
when  we  are  together?  I  do  love  you,"  she  faltered, 
as  the  conviction  wrung  her  heart  with  an  all-absorb- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  159 

ing  tenderness,  "and  I  am  afraid  my  manner  has 
hurt  you ;  but  I  cannot  help  it ;  you  frightened  me 
so." 

"And  I  love  you  so  much  I  want  you  by  my  side 
always,  my  own,  to  have  and  to  hold  forever,"  he 
responded,  his  eyes  flaming  with  renewed  hope  and 
intensity  of  longing. 

"But  why  not  be  happy  as  we  are,  just  yet?  I 
shall  always  love  you,"  she  said,  gropingly,  learning 
the  truth  as  she  uttered  the  words,  "love  you  more 
and  more  as  I  grow  wiser  and  know  my  own  heart, 
for  even  so  it  has  been  since  I  have  known  you. 
Some  sweet  day,  Edwin,  when  I  am  more  worthy, 
and  you  want  me.  and  Aunt  Jean  can  spare  me,  we 
will  ask  her  to  let  us  be  together  as  you  wish." 

Her  voice  faltered,  and  she  was  silenced  by  the 
stern  setting  of  his  lips,  the  cloud  of  disappointment 
which  distorted  his  features. 

"I  will  not  force  you  with  persuasion ;  you  shall 
take  me  now  or  lose  me  finally,  as  your  love  prompts 
you,"  he  said  assertingly. 

"But  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  lose  you,  will  it, 
Edwin?"  she  queried,  anxiously;  a  solemn  awe  of 
him  was  creeping  into  her  heart;  a  prescient  sense 
of  his  influence  upon  her  future. 

"You  will,  if  you  do  not  marry  me  soon,  say.  some 
time  this  winter.  I  am  powerless  against  circum- 
stances that  you  could  not  understand  if  I  tried  to 
explain  them,  dearest.  You  have  never  known  any- 
thing beyond  the  placid  life  of  your  home;  the  real 
world  and  its  temptations,  its  machinations,  are  as  a 
sealed  book  to  you,  and  I  hope  you  may  never  read 
it;  that  you  may  be  spared  the  unholy  revelations 


160  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

sure  to  disillusion  you ;  but  if  you  love  me,  you  must 
marry  me  soon,  must  forsake  all  else  and  cleave  to 
me  only.  I  am  forced  to  make  such  stern  condi- 
tions," he  explained,  with  bitter  self-accusing,  "but 
if  you  love  me  as  I  love  you,  they  will  not  seem  hard, 
but  blissfully  easy." 

His  words  and  manner  impressed  her  with  a  vague 
anxiety.  There  were  tokens  of  real  suffering,  of 
vital  earnestness,  which  filled  her  heart  with  indefin- 
able perplexity  and  a  humiliating  view  of  their  rela- 
tion to  each  other.  She  was  so  preoccupied  analyzing 
the  thoughts  so  strange  and  bewildering,  she  did  not 
reply,  but  turned  away  and  faced  the  valley,  her 
mind  reviewing  the  past  months  in  which  Cupid  had 
been  so  busy  with  his  shuttle,  not  his  bow,  weaving 
into  life's  web  beautiful  scenes,  an  irridescent  tapes- 
try revealing  vistas  of  sheer  delight  in  rose-em- 
bowered Edens. 

She  tried  to  find  the  cheats  in  its  pleasures  and 
its  sweets,  if  in  love's  garden,  as  in  Aunt  Jean's, 
roses  veiled  hidden  thorns  to  pierce  the  heart ;  she 
gazed  probingly  into  the  heart  of  Nature,  and 
realized  why  some  practical  lines  had  been  haunting 
her  mind  that  afternoon : 

"With  what  a  glory  comes  and  goes  the  years! 
The  buds  of  Spring!     Those  beautiful  harbingers 
Of  sunny  skies  and  cloudless  times  enjoy 
Life's  newness,  and  earth's  garniture  spread  out; 
And  when  the  silver  habit  of  the  clouds 
Comes  down  upon  the  autumnal  sun  and  with 
Sober  gladness  the  new  year  takes  up 
His  bright  inheritance  of  golden  fruits, 
A  pomp  and  pageant  fills  the  splendid  scene." 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  161 

Donald  had  read  the  Hnes  impressively  the  pre- 
vious year,  and  revealed  to  her  their  beauty  and 
appropriateness ;  she  had  been  so  impressionable 
then,  when  life  had  seemed  to  be  a  manifold  poem. 
As  yet,  though,  her  heart  had  not  evolved  an  idealism 
of  love's  crowning  event,  and  she  could  not  enter- 
tain a  thought  of  it  with  the  least  pleasure. 

"Of  what  are  you  thinking,  Ruth?"  His  voice  re- 
called her,  imperatively.  "Will  you  not  give  me 
some  kind  of  an  answer  ?  I  must  soon  be  going,  and 
I  have  not  spoken  idly." 

She  heeded  him  with  an  unreserved  answer. 

"Edwin,  it  is  very  pleasant  to  see  you,  to  be  with 
you,  to  dream  of  you  and  to  know  that  you  love  me, 
but  I  cannot  marry  you  just  now,"  she  said,  regret- 
fully. 

"That  shall  not  be  final,  Ruth,"  he  contended, 
obstinately.  "You  must  consider  fully  before  de- 
ciding ;  so  much  depends  upon  your  decision !  Our 
whole  future  will  be  determined  by  it,  and  you  are 
but  a  child  after  all,  and  cannot  realize  how  vitally  I 
feel  about  it.  I  must  be  patient;  I  have  fairly 
stormed  you  for  a  reply,  and  it  is  not  just.  You 
shall  have  some  time  to  reflect  and  learn  what  it 
means  for  us  to  be  separated.  I  am  going  away.  I 
will  attend  to  business  strictly,  and  when  I  come 
back  you  may  tell  me  whether  you  will  marry  me  or 
go  to  college.  I  shall  be  prepared  to  act  either 
way  then,  no  matter  how  you  decide." 

His  voice  was  tremulous,  with  a  lifeless  note.  His 
lips  were  stern  and  unsmiling.  "Only,  say  once 
more,  Ruth,  T  love  you,  Edwin !'  that  I  may  take 
the  words  with  me  to  cheer  me  in  the  dreary  days  of 
absence." 


162  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

"I  do  love  you,  Edwin !  Indeed,  I  love  you  !"  she 
cried,  fervently,  and  gave  him  her  hand  to  seal  the 
confession.  He  clasped  it  so  hungrily  and  gazed 
into  her  eyes  so  longingly  their  violet  depths  were 
bathed  in  tears  of  sympathy  and  feeling. 

"Shall  we  be  going?  I  have  to  be  at  the  camp  at 
the  supper  hour,"  he  suggested,  when  she  had  dried 
her  tears  and  was  pensively  calm. 

As  they  strolled  homeward,  it  was  as  if  they  had 
left  tragedy  at  the  bridge  and  entered  again  the  love- 
lighted  drama  which  had  so  irradiated  their  short 
acquaintance.  When  they  turned  into  the  cherry 
lane,  he  said,  in  spite  of  their  sedate  pace : 

"But  we  need  not  hurry  so;  there  is  no  haste,  and 
I  wish  to  further  impress  upon  you  the  importance 
of  what  I  have  been  saying  to  you.  Consider  it 
rationally;  put  aside  romantic  ideas  and  deal  only 
with  practical  facts.  Lay  love  in  all  its  alluring 
happiness  and  charm  side  by  side  with  everything 
that  can  combat  it,  and  when  I  come  again  be  ready 
with  your  answer.  I  shall  give  you  time ;  I  shall  be 
gone  several  weeks,  and  I  shall  return  prepared  for 
any  emergency." 

"Have  you  also  considered,  Edwin?  Do  you 
realize  all  you  propose?"  she  said,  with  grave  con- 
cern. 

"I  have  considered,"  he  returned  emphatically. 

"That  I  am  quite  young,  that  I  have  never  been  to 
college,  that  I  know  nothing  of  your  people,  your 
home  or  the  men  and  women  of  the  world  you  are 
accustomed  to  mingle  with ;  and  that  Aunt  Jean  has 
a  right  to  be  consulted  ?  She  has  been  everything  to 
me,  you  know;  and  there  is  Uncle  Angus.     He  is 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  163 

very  fond  of  me,  too,"  she  argued  practically,  and 
with  the  sincerity  so  innate  in  her  character. 

"I  know  that  there  is  not  a  phase  of  the  subject  I 
have  not  brooded  upon  until  I  was  almost  crazy,"  he 
assured  her,  convincingly.  "And  Ruth,  you  must 
not  consult  anyone ;  your  heart  alone  must  make  the 
decision.  I  could  not  bear  for  your  uncle  to  stand  in 
judgment  upon  our  love,  that  heartless,  crusty  old 
bachelor.  That  he  is  not  married  proves  that  he  is 
not  capable  of  love !" 

"But  Aunt  Jean  !  She  would  understand  !  Let 
me  seek  her  counsel  ?  I  have  not  told  anyone  yet, 
the  secret  seemed  too  sacred  to  discuss,  and  I  have 
never  thought  it  necessary  until  now.  I  would  like 
so  much  to  consult  Aunt  Jean.  She  has  been  mar- 
ried. She  could  explain  the  things  that  seem  so 
strange  to  me." 

"Consult  no  one  but  your  own  heart,"  he  reiterated 
insistently.    "Promise  you  will  not?" 

"I  promise,"  she  acquiesced  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

They  were  nearing  the  gate  where  his  horse  and 
buggy  awaited  him.  The  mansion,  amid  autumnal 
foliage,  loomed  massive  and  aggressively,  staid  and 
monumental ;  gilded  with  the  mellow  rays  of  the  de- 
clining sun,  imbued  with  the  sober  seeming  of  Indian 
summer.  Ruth  viewed  it  with  a  new  and  clinging 
affection  through  a  vista  of  its  patrician  past.  "I 
am  the  last  of  them,  the  honorable  MacKenzies,  who 
so  loved  and  cherished  it,"  she  realized,  with  a  surge 
of  allegiance  and  duty. 

They  paused  at  the  gate,  which  he  refused  to  open. 
The  short  day  was  almost  spent ;  imperative  duties 
awaited  him  at  the  camp,  yet  he  lingered  a  few 
moments. 


164  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

Ruth  stood  by  the  gate,  ephemerally  happy,  con- 
scious of  a  sensitive  joy  pervading  her  most  transi- 
tory thoughts. 

Mrs.  Anderson  was  promenading  the  veranda  back 
and  forth,  and  they  were  conscious  of  her  espionage. 

He  leaned  over  the  wrought-iron  fence  and 
plucked  a  last  rose  of  summer,  blooming  amid  the 
sohtude  of  still  verdant  foliage.  He  laid  the  listless, 
cold  blossom  in  the  warm  palm  of  his  hand  and 
examined  it  critically.  She  watched  his  movements 
wistfully;  the  pallid  bud  seemed  to  each  prophetic, 
and  when  their  eyes  met  each  sighed  with  a  mutual 
regret  and  bereavement. 

"How  fares  the  blessed  little  pine,  Ruth?"  he 
quizzed,  with  a  flash  of  his  former  teasing. 

"It  is  an  evergreen,  you  know,"  she  retorted, 
blushing  and  smiling  with  ineradicable  diffidence. 
He  craved  a  magician's  wand,  the  power  of  the  gods 
to  demolish  barriers  and  conquer  the  fortress  of  cir- 
cumstances. 

The  level  rays  of  the  setting  sun  swept  the  gold  of 
her  hair,  the  rose  of  her  cheeks,  the  purple  depths  of 
her  heavily-lashed  eyes. 

"Goodby,"  he  said  finally,  holding  her  eyes  and 
pleading  dumbly ;  then  he  drove  away  swiftly  in  the 
rainbow  lights  of  purple,  gilded  clouds,  pillared 
against  the  yellow  wall  of  sunset. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Crisis — Relics  of  Scotland — Goodby.Sweet- 
heart,  goodby. 

"Hands  of  invisible  spirits  touch  the  strings 
Of  that  mysterious  instrument,  the  soul. 
And  play  the  prelude  of  our  fate." 

— Selected. 

"Close,  close  in  a  rapturous  kiss. 
He  drew  as  a  bee  draweth  honey. 
My  soul,  until  it  fainted  with  bliss 
And  passed  into  his  keeping  forever. 
To  have  and  to  hold  as  his  own." 

— Selecte(i. 

The  bright,  ephemeral  days  of  Indian  summer 
faded  imperceptibly  into  days  when  chill  winds 
shrieked  over  the  sand-hills  and  dipped  into  the 
valleys.  At  Kissic-Dale,  the  boisterous  breath  of  ap- 
proaching winter  had  blown  down  the  wide- 
throated  chimneys,  where  huge  logs  blazed  upon  the 
hearths  when  gray  clouds  lowered  and  pattering 
hail  and  glistening  sleet  enshrouded  the  tomb  of 
summer. 

Anon,  there  were  bright  days,  and  the  elusive 
warmth  mocked  frostbitten  nature  and  the  nights 
scintillated  with  the  Arctic  purity  of  myriad  stars 


166  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

sown  thickly  upon  a  purplish  sky  and  reflected  by 
frost-encrusted  foliage  and  frozen  dewdrops. 

The  forces  of  Nature,  the  fluctuating  tides  of  the 
seasons,  are  dominant  elements  in  lives  passed  far 
beyond  the  glare  of  gas-lighted  streets  and  the  roar 
of  traffic  where  the  mind  loses  ken  of  the  miracles 
evolved  in  the  plan  of  creation ;  into  the  warp  and 
woof  of  those  isolated  lives  are  interwoven  the  in- 
fluences of  the  solar  systems,  the  sidereal  and  lunar 
phenomena,  the  whims  of  Boreas,  the  meteorological 
conditions  of  atmosphere,  for  they  are  dominated 
and  diverted  by  their  caprices. 

Thus  one  evening,  late  in  December,  closed  doors 
shut  in  snugly  the  inmates  of  Kissic-Dale.  Fires 
blazed  upon  the  hearth  of  sitting-room  and  parlor. 
Late  roses  and  potted  geraniums  mingled  their  fra- 
grance with  the  elusive  aroma  of  burning  pine,  oak 
and  hickory.  Jean  entertained  Edwin  Phillips  in  the 
parlor.  He  had  arrived  at  sunset  in  time  for  supper 
and  had  received  a  genuine  welcome  from  Jean. 
Ruth  had  been  very  quiet  and  meditative  and  the 
governess  very  talkative  at  the  table.  After  then 
Mrs.  Anderson  had  detained  Ruth  in  the  sitting- 
room  to  complete  the  day's  allotment  of  recitation. 
Ruth's  voice  and  eyes  had  beseeched  pardon  for  her 
unavoidable  negligence,  and  he  had  excused  her, 

Jean  was  conscientiously  entertaining  him  and  ran 
the  gamut  of  social  amenities.  Then,  whether  in- 
fluenced by  his  own  anxious  state  of  mind  which 
rendered  him  absent-minded  and  dull,  or  inspired  by 
some  psychological  intuition,  she  lapsed  into  reminis- 
cent and  personal  subjects. 

With  a  long-drawn  sigh  of  difficult  resignation, 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  167 

she  informed  him  that  she  had  at  last  induced  Ruth 
to  enter  college. 

Providence  had  favored  her  desire.  Mrs.  Ander- 
son had  been  offered  a  position  in  the  faculty  of  a 
Presbyterian  college  and  Jean  had  been  assured  that 
Ruth  would  be  permitted  to  room  with  her  and  that 
she  would  give  personal  oversight  to  her  bairnie's 
health  and  comfort.  It  would  be  but  half  of  a 
scholastic  year,  and  that  would  be  so  much  better 
than  enduring  a  whole  year  of  separation  in  the  first 
parting.  In  the  isolation  and  seclusion  of  the  house- 
hold, home  ties  were  strong  and  broke  with  a  shock 
to  heart  and  habit,  and  that  arrangement  would 
somewhat  ameliorate  the  dreaded  inevitable. 

His  interest  was  silent  but  flatteringly  intense,  and 
for  the  first  time  she  confided  to  him  details  of 
family  history.  Pathetically  and  fluently,  she  ac- 
quainted him  with  ancestral  traditions ;  her  pride 
of  race  and  lineage,  and  lamented  that  none  of  them 
were  left  of  the  long  line  to  perpetuate  the  prestige 
of  Kissic-Dale  but  Ruth.  She  deplored  the  fate  of 
her  husband  and  brothers,  dwelling  upon  the  end  of 
Jamie,  whose  death  had  thrown  such  responsibility 
upon  his  daughter.  She  emphasized  the  need  of 
Ruth's  being  liberally  educated,  in  that  her  forbears 
had  ever  deemed  ignorance  a  crime  beyond  pardon, 
and  to  esteem  their  race  lightly  culpable  treason. 

She  fetched  some  of  her  precious  relics  and  rever- 
ently exhibited  them ;  a  bagpipe  with  tarnished 
chanters ;  a  fire-bellows  of  lacquered  ebony,  embel- 
lished with  blood-red  roses  with  silver  leaves ;  a 
plumed  bonnet  crested  with  an  eagle's  feather ;  # 
crude  broadsword  and  a  time-stained  philabeg;  a 


168  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

scathed  poniard,  with  a  curiously  wrought  handle, 
and  the  heavy  loving  cup,  the  prince  of  her  souvenirs, 
filled  then  with  the  last  gleaning  of  roses  from  her 
garden.  She  remarked  the  fact  and  sighed;  the 
garden  had  been  abandoned  to  the  desolate  sway  of 
winter,  its  blighting  snows  and  paralyzing  ices. 

For  awhile,  then,  they  sat  in  a  rather  embarrass- 
ing silence.  His  eyes  brooded  constantly,  the  scented 
hickory  logs  gasping  red-hot  breaths  upon  the  marble 
hearth,  where  they  were  hedged  securely  by  the 
huge  elaborate  brass  andirons  and  the  fanciful  green 
enameled  fender. 

Ordinary  and  unsentimental  subjects  seemed  flat 
and  savorless  after  discussing  pathos  and  tradition. 
Once  Jean  intercepted  his  furtive  espionage  of  her 
favorite  ancestor,  the  pictured,  betartaned  young 
Highlander.  She  explained  that  he  was  the  father 
of  the  lads  who  followed  "Bonny  Prince  Charlie"  to 
the  fatal  field  of  Culloden;  and  that  the  bearded, 
fierce-looking,  full-jowled  Scot,  whose  portrait  hung 
in  the  sitting-room,  lived  in  the  days  which  origin- 
ated the  Highland  and  Lowland  clans;  the  days  of 
border  warfare,  violence  and  robbery,  of  rough  gal- 
lantry and  ruder  chivalry ;  violent  loves  and  obstinate 
lovers,  when  betartaned  Lochinvars  dashed  across 
the  border  to  snatch  sweethearts  and  wives  from 
their  turbulent  enemies. 

In  the  thrill  of  narrative  she  disclosed  her  clannish 
zeal  for  all  that  pertained  to  her  time-hallowed  race, 
her  unbending  pride  of  lineage. 

She  said :  "Although  we  are  transplanted  and  only 
unnoted  units  of  a  great  nation  whose  national 
fame  submerges  individuality,  yet  we  are  Gaelics  in 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  169 

heart,  and  materialize  our  inherited  race  pride  by 
our  intelHgence  and  industry,  and  proud  aloofness 
from  other  peoples.  Why,  my  mother  spoke  English 
brokenly,  and  never  in  her  life  entered  another 
church  but  our  own.  She  was  a  MacGillivray  ;  Jean, 
the  daughter  of  Laurie ;  and  there  is  a  tradition,  not 
verbal,  but  written,  that  an  ancestor,  a  favorite  at 
court,  found  his  bride  at  the  castle  of  a  Norse  noble- 
man. Jamie  and  I  fancied  that  Ruth  inherited  her 
characteristics  from  that  bride  'of  ye  olden  time.' 
Jamie  also  had  yellow  hair  and  blue  eyes ;  Ruth's 
dark  eyes  came  through  her  mother." 

Jean  lapsed  into  speechless  silence  to  ponder  some 
intruding  thought  or  memory.  Edwin  gazed  upon 
the  varying  shadows  of  the  face  he  loved,  reflecting 
Ruth  from  her  infancy  to  the  past  summer.  When 
she  had  fetched  her  relics  for  exhibition,  he  had 
found  among  them  a  box  of  photographs  that  in- 
cluded many  of  Ruth ;  and  he  had  retained  them  to 
study  at  leisure,  the  pictures  delineating  every  phase 
of  her  growth. 

"A  rare  lassie,  is  she  not?"  Jean  remarked  with 
irrepressible  affection. 

He  nodded  an  emphatic  rejoinder,  then  shifted  the 
cardboards,  nervously. 

"When  I  was  a  child,"  Jean  spoke  again,  rumin- 
atively,  her  mind  dismissing  the  photographs,  "the 
sermons  at  our  old  kirk  were  preached  in  Gaelic.  I 
have  planned  that  some  day  Ruth  and  I  would  sit 
together  in  some  old  kirk  in  the  Highlands  of  our 
'ain  countrie,'  and  hear  the  pure  Gaelic,  unalloyed 
by  foreign  intermixture.  It  is  the  desire  of  my 
heart  to  keep  Ruth  with  me  until  her  character  is 


170  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

permanently  formed,  and  be  thus  assured  that  she 
will  perpetuate  our  ideals.  It  would  break  my  heart 
to  fail  in  this  duty  to  Jamie  and  all  former  Mac- 
Kenzies ;  therefore,  she  must  have  a  full  enlighten- 
ment, every  grace  of  culture  and  advantage  of  edu- 
cation, even  if  I  have  to  be  lonely  and  bear  with 
what  fortitude  I  can  the  sorrow  of  her  absence ;  and 
she  will  not  prove  a  disappointment,  my  brave  little 
bairnie !"  she  concluded,  with  absolute  faith,  as  she 
reached  for  a  small  hand-broom,  with  which  to  brush 
the  white  ashes  blown  upon  the  gleaming  marble  of 
the  hearth  by  the  hissing  incineration  of  the  crumb- 
ling logs. 

"Grant  me  a  favor,  Mrs.  MacEarchan,"  he  ap- 
pealed, suddenly,  strangely,  she  conceived  with  some 
surprise. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  wondering  vaguely. 

"A  photo  of  Ruth  as  she  appeared  last  summer," 
he  explained. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  was  made  while  she  was  away  with 
Angus.     I  have  several,"  Jean  said,  and  waited. 

"May  I  keep  it,  please?"  He  pleaded  so  insistently 
her  heart  was  touched  and  her  family  pride  flattered. 

"For  the  sake  of  our  pleasant  friendship ;  as  a 
souvenir  of  our  beautiful  summer,"  he  persisted, 
earnestly. 

"If  you  so  particularly  desire  it,"  she  acquiesced, 
kindly,  thus  revealing  trust  and  unconventionalism. 
"There  are  several  of  the  same  copy.  Angus,  with 
his  usual  generosity  toward  Ruth,  had  a  dozen 
made  to  distribute  among  relatives.  He  is  very  fond 
of  her;  he  insists  that  he  must  pay  her  college  ex- 
penses and  speaks  of  giving  her  a  trip  abroad  when 
her  education  is  completed." 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  171 

He  placed  the  photograph  in  his  pocket,  a  smile, 
strangely  triumphant  and  sad,  evincing  a  definite 
purpose. 

"But  why  do  you  want  it  so  much?"  Jean  inquired, 
frankly,  not  in  the  least  divining  his  real  motives 
and  feelings. 

"Because  it  is  so  much  as  I  imagine  the  angels  to 
be,"  he  replied  in  a  tone  that  increased  her  wonder. 

Airs.  Anderson  came  in,  breezy,  in  strictly  formal 
cheeriness.  "Ruth  is  putting  away  her  books  and 
will  be  in  directly,"  she  explained  to  Jean  in  a  polite 
aside. 

"May  I  seek  her  to  say  goodby?  I  must  be  going 
soon,  and  I  have  scarcely  seen  her,"  Edwin  requested 
instantly. 

"Of  course,"  Jean  answered,  politely. 

As  he  left  the  room  ]\Irs.  Anderson  went  to  the 
piano,  and  Jean  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  re- 
laxed into  pleased  attention.  She  never  wearied  of 
music,  and  Mrs.  Anderson  played  brilliantly;  and 
neither  dreamed  of  the  interview  imminent  in  the 
sitting-room. 

Edwin  entered  that  room  quietly  and  shut  the  door 
firmly.  Ruth  had  not  left  the  study  table,  her  face 
was  buried  in  her  folded  arms,  portraying  deepest 
dejection.  He  knew  that  she  was  alone,  that  Alary 
Graham  was  away  on  a  visit.  He  was  beside  her 
ere  she  realized  his  presence.  She  lifted  startled, 
tear-drenched  eyes  to  meet  his,  blazing  with  fierce 
excitement.  Her  tears  disarmed  the  ferocious 
despair  compressing  his  heart.  He  smiled  leniently 
into  her  woe-stricken  countenance,  although  his  stiff 
lips  resisted  tensely. 


172  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

"I  was  coming,  Edwin,"  she  apologized,  con- 
fusedly, as  she  wiped  her  eyes  in  forlorn  haste  and 
forced  to  her  lips  a  wan  smile  of  welcome. 

"I  much  preferred  coming  to  you,"  he  returned, 
tersely,  "and  I  am  not  surprised  to  find  you  crying. 
I  would  cry,  too,  if  I  had  broken  two  loving  hearts 
so  wilfully." 

*'Oh,  then,  you  know  !  Aunt  Jean  has  told  you  ?" 
she  exclaimed,  shrinkingly. 

"She  has  told  me  so  much  there  is  no  need  of  your 
assuming  the  pain  of  reiteration.  I  understand,  and 
I  must  not  blame  you,  must  I  ?  No  doubt  it  is  all 
for  the  best,  if  I  could  feel  it  to  be  so,  but  love  is 
proverbially  blind,  you  know,"  he  said,  with  a  com- 
posure incompatible  with  the  lurid  flame  smoldering 
in  the  glance  she  met  bravely,  if  tearfully. 

"I  have  wanted  so  much  to  consult  you,  to  explain. 
You  have  been  away  a  long  time,  Edwin,  it  has 
seemed  interminable  to  me ;  and  I  have  reflected, 
and — and  I  could  not  do  any  other  than  the  way  I 
have  chosen.  I  am  not  so  young  but  that  I  realize 
my  dense  ignorance  of  the  real,  every-day  world. 
Shakespeare  says :  'Home-keeping  youths  have 
homely  wits' ;  and  according  to  that  I  am  supremely 
homely,  uncouthly  equipped  with  a  woman's  most 
essential  knowledge  and  graces.  You  would  have 
been  ashamed  of  me,  Edwin,  in  the  presence  of  your 
friends,  your  family,  your  society,  where  the  women 
dance  and  coquette  so  fascinatingly." 

"Well?"  he  questioned,  amazement  for  the  mo- 
ment superseding  all  other  ideas. 

"And  I  could  not  bear  that.  I  would  not  for  any 
consideration  put  such  a  test  upon  your  love  for  me- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  173 

There  are  other  reasons  that  I  should  regard 
sacredly,  but  they  are  not  so  vital,  for,  Edwin,  your 
love,  your  respect  would  be  paramount  for  any 
happiness  I  covet,  and  I  cannot  run  any  risk  of  not 
deserving  your  highest  esteem,"  she  pleaded,  defend- 
ing her  course  with  tearful  apology. 

He  listlessly  viewed  her  agitation  and  depth  of 
earnestness,  as  if  he  knew  it  all  was  useless,  any  dis- 
cussion with  her,  any  effort.  He  stood  upon  the 
hearth  rug,  his  face  fronting  her,  his  eyes  brooding 
the  scene  restlessly,  fighting  his  battle  alone  in  dumb 
pain  and  rebellion.  Ruth  dabbed  her  eyes  with  her 
sodden  handkerchief,  utterly  distraught  and  un- 
nerved in  that  crisis,  and  she  took  the  initiative, 
someone  might  come  in  at  any  moment  and  prevent 
a  full  understanding  and  justification. 

"I  shall  think  of  you  every  moment,  I  am  sure.  I 
have  thought  of  nothing  else  since  last  summer,  it 
seems  to  me,  Edwin,  but  I  will  work  and  be  more 
worthy ;  I  will  be  true  to  you  forever !"  she  pro- 
tested, plaintively. 

He  drew  her  picture  from  his  pocket.  "See,  Ruth, 
what  your  kind  aunt  has  given  me !''  He  held  it 
aloft,  triumphantly.  "It  is  mine,  and  no  power  on 
earth  shall  take  it  away  from  me.  It  shall  abide 
with  me  in  life  and  go  with  me  to  my  grave ;  my 
good  angel,  my  one  love,  my  priceless  treasure !" 

He  searched  her  living  features  steadily,  then  in- 
tently their  radiant,  smiling  shadow.  He  sighed  as 
he  put  it  away ;  then  he  sought  for  and  found  the 
portrait  of  the  bearded  Highlander,  who  smiled 
broadly  from  the  dim  old  canvas.  If  he,  also,  had 
lived  in  the  days  of  border  outlaws,  such  stress  as 


174  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

he  was  then  enduring  would  not  have  been  neces- 
sary. There  was  sweet  surrender  in  Ruth's  expres- 
sion ;  soon  she  would  count  all  things  dross  but  him 
and  his  devotion  ;  but  that  was  romantic  surmise,  the 
reality  was  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said 
"but  farewell,  nothing  could  avail  any  more,  and  his 
only  consolation  was  that  when  the  love-light  faded 
from  her  eyes  he  would  not  know  it  or  behold  the 
scorn  they  would  mirror  when  she  would  believe  him 
false  and  utterly  worthless. 

He  searched  the  room  with  a  swift,  probing 
glance.  They  were  quite  alone,  the  doors  were 
closed,  the  windows  curtained.  The  green  shade  of 
the  study  lamp  threw  an  emerald  shadow  to  dim  the 
red  gleaming  of  the  cheery  hearth.  The  music  from 
the  parlor  came  through  closed  doors  in  muffled  but 
mellifluent  strains. 

He  posed  a  long  time,  pondering,  irresolute, 
braving  the  clamor  of  his  aching  heart,  heeding  his 
tender  reverence  for  her  youth  and  innocence.  Ruth 
sighed  and  almost  sobbed  as  she  remarked  the 
change  in  him.  He  was  so  unlike  the  happy,  debonair 
Edwin  she  had  first  known.  He  came  to  her  side, 
intending  to  say  goodby  and  go  his  desolate  way 
without  further  parley,  but  his  heart  failed  him.  For 
a  moment  he  hesitated  ;  the  music  throbbed  distantly, 
but  it  melted  his  heart  as  no  other  music  had  ever 
swayed  his  emotions,  and  the  room  was  so  quiet  and 
secluded.  The  cat  purred  on  the  cozy  hearth,  the 
fire-impregnated  logs  glowed  warmly.  He  leaned 
and  lifted  her  into  his  arms;  his  voice  in  a  tense 
whisper  seemed  to  shriek  his  words. 

"You  love  me,  Ruth !    Say  you  love  me !"  he  ap- 


JVi 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  175 

pealed,  with  sobbing  breath,  and  as  her  head  sank 
against  his  shoulder  he  laughed  recklessly,  defiantly. 
His  mind  leaped  with  the  speed  of  a  winged  ]\Ier- 
cury  from  the  depths  of  depression  to  the  rapturous 
heights  of  an  exalted  passion.  A  supreme  tender- 
ness, the  effulgence  of  blissful  gratification,  trans- 
formed his  countenance,  as  he  caressed  her  hair  and 
stroked  her  cheek  with  gentle  touch  until  he  lifted 
her  head,  so  timid  and  drooping,  that  he  might  com- 
pel her  to  look  into  his  eyes,  and  she  gazed  in  a 
thrilling  ecstasy  as  the  gates  of  his  soul  revealed  the 
refined  gold  of  his  love  from  which  all  dross  had 
been  eliminated  in  the  crucial  pain  of  parting: 

"For  as  gold  is  tried  by  fire, 
So  is  the  heart  by  pain." 

He  smiled  into  the  sweet  countenance  so  near  his 
own  at  last,  and  in  a  frenzy  of  reciprocated  love,  he 
held  her  to  his  breast  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers  in 
a  clinging  caress.  In  a  rapture  too  exquisite  for 
expression  he  kissed  away  the  tears  bedewing  her 
eyes,  the  sweet,  fathomless  eyes,  that  were  to  him 
windows  of  the  only  heaven  he  should  glimpse  upon 
earth,  then  again,  and  yet  again  he  kissed  the  tender 
lips  quivering  and  sentient. 

When  finally  she  escaped  his  arms  he  met  her 
blushing  rebuke  with  an  exulting  smile  that  em- 
bodied remembrance  of  silvery  April  skies  ;  of  jessa- 
mine and  arbutus ;  of  a  fair,  wonderfully  sweet 
maiden,  who  had  suddenly  personified  all  that 
springtime  ecstasy.  Was  he  not  reaping  a  reward 
no  other  ever  could  claim,  that  no  untoward  fate 


176  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

could  snatch  from  him;  the  first  love  of  her  heart, 
the  first  kiss  of  her  lips,  her  first  surrender  to  the 
suit  of  an  adorer? 

He  drew  her  to  him  again,  brave  with  the  thought 
of  victory,  forgetting  its  limitations,  as  with  dim 
vision  and  caressing  voice,  he  whispered  fond  words, 
adoring  phrases,  assuring  her  of  his  love,  his  un- 
dying devotion. 

"Do  you  really  love  me  so  much?"  she  questioned, 
awed  by  the  vehemence  of  his  words. 

"So  much,  so  absolutely,"  he  vowed,  "that  love 
alone  gives  me  strength  to  renounce  all  hope  of 
happiness." 

Their  eyes  met  again  in  a  thrilling  revelation. 

"Oh,  Edwin !"  she  whispered,  as  one  exclaims  at 
a  supreme  burst  of  grandeur, 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  long  ago  that  love  was  more 
than  life,  that  nothing  else  mattered?"  he  reminded 
her. 

"And  I  had  no  conception  of  it  then,  of  its  splen- 
dor of  happiness,"  she  admitted,  wonderingly. 

"Oh  there  are  looks  and  tones  that  dart! 
An  instant  sunshine  through  the  heart! 
As  if  the  soul  that  instant  caught 
Some  treasure  it  through  life  had  sought; 
As  if  the  very  lips  and  eyes. 
Predestined  to  have  all  our  sighs, 
And  never  be  forgot  again, 
Sparkled  and  spoke  before  us  then." 

"I  knew  you  were  my  fate  from  the  first  moment 
I  beheld  you,"  he  said,  his  eyes  gentle  and  glistening 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  177 

with  unshed  tears.  "Oh,  why  did  I  find  you  but  to 
lose  you  !"  he  exclaimed,  rebelliously. 

"I  hope  to  make  you  very  happy  some  day, 
Edwin,"  she  assured  him  brightly,  but  his  smile 
faded  as  stern  reality  quenched  all  anticipatory 
hope ;  the  music  in  the  parlor  broke  abruptly  into 
silence.  Nemesis  confronted  him  in  Medusa-like 
ugliness  and  wathch fulness,  as  Ruth  revealed  her 
heart  and  devotion. 

With  masculine  strength  and  a  literal  viewpoint, 
he  estimated  the  situation,  for  beneath  the  outward 
splendor  of  her  charms,  as  an  inexorable  power  be- 
hind a  jewelled  throne,  he  knew  abided  invincible 
monitors  which  guarded  the  gateway  of  her  soul 
and  pillared  a  firm  character ;  lofty  ideals,  pious  con- 
ceptions, infinite  distaste  for  deceit  and  dishonor; 
and  that  he  had  won  her  falsely,  had  met  with  effort, 
her  exalted  standards.  Even  then  her  eyes,  those 
wonderfully  beautiful  and  expressive  eyes,  were 
saying : 

"Oh,  thou  adored !  The  glories  of  thy  burning 
eyes  afford  me  visions  of  elemental  fire !  Oh,  what 
art  thou  to  move  me  so  ?  To  be  the  cynosure  of  my 
soul  on  earth !  Of  all  the  mysteries  I  dimly  knew, 
until  love's  flame  of  wonder  made  them  glow." 

Alas !  that  she  had  given  him  sublimated  faith 
and  ascribed  to  him  every  grace  and  virtue  of  an 
unblemished,  noble  character.  She  was  ignorant  of 
the  deceit  of  worldly  standards,  her  training  taught 
a  sincere  foundation  for  every  structure  in  human 
character;  she  knew  nothing  of  society's  whited 
sepulchres,  and  the  knowledge  of  them,  where  they 
would  concern  her  vitally,  would  slay  her  respect  by 


178  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

their  manifold  horror.  He  felt  sin-scarred  in  view 
of  her  saintly  ignorance  which  had  made  her  so 
wholly,  so  deliciously  worth  winning  and  possessing. 
News  of  the  world  had  come  to  her  through  the 
stilted  moralisms  of  standard  literature  and  the 
clarified  medium  of  godly  minds  sternly  arrayed 
against  laxity  in  the  least  detail  of  principle ;  there- 
fore he  must  plead  no  more,  but  embrace  renunci- 
ation, acquiesce  in  an  arrangement  which  he  knew 
would  divide  them  forever. 

The  pain  of  the  moment  grew  intolerable,  a  sor- 
row so  intense  no  ephemeral  bliss  could  longer  as- 
suage it,  when  she  said,  with  plaintive  appeal  to  his 
strength  and  affection :  "Do  you  think  I  will  be  able 
to  bear  the  long,  lonely  months  away  from  you, 
Edwin?" 

Her  voice  broke  into  sobbing  as  her  heart  filled 
with  an  indescribable  presage  of  solitude. 

His  reply  was  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  press 
her  lips  with  his.  She  could  hear  muffled  throbs  of 
his  heart  as  he  whispered :  "My  beloved,  my  only 
love !" 

He  released  her  gently,  and  walked  deliberately  to 
the  door,  but  with  his  hand  upon  the  knob  he  paused 
for  a  last,  lingering  survey  of  the  room  and  of  Ruth, 
puzzled  and  waiting  by  the  study-table,  ignorant  of 
his  intention,  not  dreaming  it  was  a  farewell  parting. 
Dazed  and  dumb,  with  the  significance  of  his  acts, 
he  gazed,  as  if  from  a  remote  distance,  upon  the  lost 
Eden  of  the  bright  spring  days,  summer's  rose- 
lighted  reign  and  autumn's  love-gilded  climax ;  of 
which  the  scene,  staged  peacefully  in  the  mingled 
glow  of  lamp-light  and  fire-light,  the  Rembrantesque 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  179 

shadows  bathing  the  stolid  Highlander  in  glimmer- 
ing light,  his  woollen  "plaidie"  thus  matching  the 
gorgeous  sheen  of  the  silken  one  of  the  cynical 
young  Highlander  on  the  parlor  wall,  and  shimmer- 
ing with  gentle  radiance,  on  Ruth's  slender  form, 
regal  wealth  of  bright  hair  and  timid  violet  eyes,  was 
the  end  of  the  elusory  dream  of  bliss. 

He  turned  the  bolt  and  the  door  fell  ajar.     Mrs. 
Anderson  was  singing: 

"Oh,  fond  dove!     Oh,  fair  dove! 
Oh,  dove  with  the  white  white  breast!" 


"Oh !"  Ruth  gasped.    "Oh,  Edwin !" 

He  slipped  through  the  door  and  closed  it  noise- 
lessly, reverently,  as,  for  the  last  time,  the  lid  of  a 
casket  is  lowered,  secluding  forever  beloved 
features. 

In  the  hall  he  drew  on  his  overcoat  and  secured 
his  hat.  He  waited  for  a  pause  in  the  song;  then 
from  the  doorway  he  said  good  night  to  Jean  and 
Mrs.  Anderson. 

As  his  faithful  horse  bore  him  swiftly  through  the 
shrilling  forest,  he  buttoned  his  coat  closely  against 
the  chill  of  the  winter  breeze  moaning  above  in  the 
frosted  pine-tops,  whose  bristling  needles  were 
stiffened  and  fretting  harshly,  wailing,  sighing, 
heart-piercing  cadences  that  seemed  a  sentient 
voice  expressing  the  dreary  loneliness  of  his  heart 

From  the  depth  of  aching  hopelessness,  the  blank 
void  of  desolation,  his  mind  was  struggling  heroic- 
ally with  plans   for  the   future ;  resolving  to  fight 


180  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

life's  battles  manfully,  to  fulfill  his  pledges  to 
Maude,  slavishly  achieve  her  comfort,  and  yet  no 
usurious  gain  wrought  by  the  weak  fingers  of  women 
and  children,  the  product  of  the  necessitous  lives  of 
the  needy  and  unfortunate,  should  assist  in  his  con- 
quering of  fortune ;  bravely  he  would  struggle  alone, 
unaided  by  a  successful  father.  And  the  forest 
sighed,  the  tall  pines  bowed  sympathetically  in 
unison  with  the  turmoil  of  his  soul. 


BOOK  III. 
Autumn. 

"They  have  flourished  in  beauty  and  freshness; 

They  have  laughed  in  the  beams  of  the  sun; 
They  have  wept  when  the  heavens  were  unwindowed, 

They  have  sighed  when  the  darkness  begun. 
Let  them  fall;  let  them  perish;  it  is  well! 

Their  youth  and  their  sweetness  have  flown." 

— Longfellow. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Shadowed    Roses — A    Desperate    Appeal — Mad 

FOR  Flight  and  Seeking  Light. 

"Ships  that  pass  in  the  night,  and  speak  each  other  in 

passing. 
Only  a  signal  shown  and  a  distant  voice  in  the  darkness; 
So  on  the  ocean  of  life  we  pass  and  speak  one  another, 
Only  a  look  and   a  voice,  then  darkness  again  and   a 

silence."  —Longfellow. 

"How  dread  the  day  must  be  when  Love, 
A  while  by  angels  fanned. 
Must  drop  apart,  a  broken  thing. 
Despised,  and  barred,  and  banned." 

— Lindsay. 

The  broad,  illimitable  sweep  of  sunlight  of  a 
bright  June  day  lay  upon  Kissic-Dale  and  its  wilder- 
ness of  roses. 

Mary  Graham,  alone  upon  the  veranda,  sighed 
helplessly  as  she  surveyed  the  floral  magnificence 
spread  so  lavishly  for  her  solitary  enjoyment.  The 
sun  shone  so  brilliantly  with  the  lustre  of  diamonds 
in  its  refulgency ;  the  roses  were  so  extremely  lovely, 
so  vari-colored,  so  intensely  tinted,  so  lavish  of 
their  fragrance,  so  luxuriant  in  their  blooming.  In 
the  long  years  of  her  stay  at  Kissic-Dale  she  could 
not  recall  such  a  harvest  of  fragrance  and  blossom, 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  183 

of  emerald  foliage  and  bird  music ;  the  magnolias 
dressed  daily,  as  if  for  a  bridal,  the  Cape  jessamines, 
regal  in  their  luscious  crop  of  waxy,  white  petals 
and  cloying  aroma ;  the  white  lilies  rivalling  them, 
and  seducing  the  bees  and  brilliant-hued  humming 
birds ;  the  honeysuckle  rioting  in  plebeian  growth 
and  diffusive  incense;  and  the  birds  singing  as  if 
their  hearts  were  bursting  with  melody,  and  the  long 
days  were  too  short  for  them  to  warble  off  the  over- 
flow of  their  liquid  music,  their  ephemeral  joy  and 
ecstacy. 

The  elements  had  been  remarkably  propitious,  the 
spring  season  a  germinating  flood  of  sunlight  and 
showers.  Yet  with  Nature  in  her  sunniest  mood, 
Ruth's  absence  had  been  felt  deeply,  and  the  place 
dreary  without  her  sunny  presence. 

Weeks  before  she  had  been  due  to  come  home,  the 
time  had  been  daily  computed,  until  Jean  had  gone 
to  fetch  her,  and  they  had  counted  the  hours,  and 
finally  the  minutes  that  elapsed  ere  her  presence  filled 
the  aching  void  in  the  home. 

At  first  the  joy  of  the  reunion  blinded  them  to  the 
fact  that  the  hectic  flushes  on  her  cheeks  were  pro- 
duced by  the  excitement  of  the  glad  home-coming; 
then  Jean's  aroused  concern  was  shared  by  all  her 
household.  It  was  not  the  child  of  their  hearts,  their 
former  Ruth,  who  had  come  back  to  them.  The 
other  Ruth  had  not  wandered  aimlessly  and  with 
dragging  step,  here,  there,  everywhere,  and  anon  to 
sit  for  hours  motionless,  deep  in  a  frowning  revery. 
Neither  had  she  been  capricious  in  eating  and  sleep- 
ing, indifferent  to  the  flowers,  the  cats,  and  the 
pigeons.    This  Ruth  refused  to  go  to  the  kirk,  and 


184  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

was  wont  to  go  for  lengthy  journeys  into  the  lonely 
glens  below  the  spring  house  and  dairy. 

The  past  noon  she  had  been  away  since  early 
morning  until  then,  and  had  returned  wan  and  hag- 
gard, and  had  not  eaten  dinner,  though  pressed  to 
do  so  with  the  insistence  of  almost  a  command. 

Jean  and  Mary  had  wondered  and  fretted  over 
their  bairnie ;  her  constant  pallor,  her  listless  be- 
havior, her  lack  of  appetite  had  worried  them 
greatly.  Jean  was  remorseful  for  sending  her  away, 
and  Mary  was  significantly  silent  when  she  voiced 
the  unavailing  regret. 

Jean  had  written  Mrs.  Anderson  Ruth's  condition, 
demanding  light  upon  the  deplorable  change  in  a 
nature  once  so  hopeful  and  buoyant.  Mrs.  Ander- 
son was  also  sorely  puzzled.  In  the  spring  Ruth 
had  fainted  in  the  college  chapel  during  prayers,  but 
she  had  rallied  and  would  not  let  Jean  be  informed 
of  the  happening  or  her  subsequent  change  of  health 
and  spirits.  Ruth  had  been,  in  the  first  months  at 
school,  feverishly  eager  to  graduate  in  every  branch 
of  study  for  which  the  college  gave  diplomas,  and 
she  had  stolidly  accepted  her  diploma  when  she  had 
successfully  won  it.  Mrs.  Anderson  had  not  under- 
stood and  could  not  explain  further  Ruth's  de- 
meanor, for  she  had  not  confided  to  her  teachers 
any  cause  for  her  listlessness. 

Therefore  Mary  sighed,  perplexedly,  dropped 
stitches  in  her  knitting  as  she  absently  blinked  at  the 
bright  landscape,  feeling  the  gloom  shadowing  the 
flower-gemmed  lawn,  the  cool  interior. 

Finally,  she  grew  restless  with  the  oppression  of 
unavailing  surmises  and,  laying  aside  her  knitting, 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  185 

put  on  her  sunbonnet  and  strolled  out  among  the 
roses,  which  she  caressed  regretfully,  in  that  so  much 
beauty  and  sweetness  should  go  unappreciated. 

She  pursued  a  meditative  mood,  which  led  her  to 
the  orchard,  where  her  feet  smote  the  bluebells,  ring- 
ing fairy  chimes  unheeded.  It  was  delicious  there 
in  the  shade  of  the  fruiting  foliage  haunted  by  happy 
birds  and  trembling  in  the  breath  of  aimless  breezes. 

When  she  had  left  the  great  colonaded  veranda, 
silence  had  reigned  there  in  intensified  degree,  ex- 
cept for  the  faint  scratching  of  Jean's  pen,  as  she 
wrote  at  her  desk,  placed  in  the  pathway  of  breezes 
sweeping  through  the  open  windows  of  the  sitting- 
room,  until  Ruth  came  out  and  reclined  languidly  in 
a  large  wicker  chair,  her  eyes  viewing,  blankly,  the 
lawn  and  exquisite  prospect.  Then  Jean  laid  aside 
her  pen  and  came  out  also,  to  sit  beside  Ruth. 

"I  have  been  wishing  to  speak  with  you,  Ruthie," 
she  said,  earnestly,  "but  I  would  not  disturb  you 
while  you  seemed  to  be  resting." 

"Well,  Auntie?"  Ruth  returned,  faintly  interroga- 
tive. 

"Yes,  I  have  been  impressed  that  you  find  it  lonely 
here  after  being  with  so  many  young  people  for  sev- 
eral months ;  and  really  it  is  lonelier  here  than  for- 
merly. You  miss  your  teachers,  Airs.  Barnard, 
Donald,  and  Mrs.  Anderson.  And  last  summer  Mr. 
Phillips  and  your  uncle  were  here  a  great  deal  and 
helped  to  divert  us.  Suppose  I  give  you  a  house 
party,  invite  as  many  of  your  schoolmates  as  you 
desire,  and  induce  some  of  your  relatives  and  ac- 
quaintances to  join  them  here,  and  thus  enliven  our 
solitude?"  Jean  suggested,  earnestly. 


186  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

"Oh,  do  not  think  of  such  a  thing,  I  implore  you  !" 
Ruth  exclaimed,  with  such  a  repugnance  to  the  idea 
Jean  stared  her  surprise  and  repulse. 

"Surely  you  are  ill !"  she  cried,  solicitously. 

"They  would  surely  drive  me  mad,  dearest 
Auntie,"  Ruth  apologized,  the  lost  color  rushing  to 
her  cheeks,  flushingly.  She  arose  impulsively ;  then 
kneeling  by  Jean,  she  laid  a  cold  hand  upon  her 
cheek  and  probed  her  soft,  hazel  eyes  with  her  own, 
dark  and  glittering. 

"You  love  me,  Aunty?"  she  queried,  in  an  appeal- 
ing, hopeless  voice. 

"Of  course,  I  love  you !  Who  else  have  I  on  earth 
to  really  love  and  cherish  but  you?"  Jean  replied, 
with  a  reassuring  caress. 

"Then,  Auntie,  let  me  arrange  my  life  for  the  near 
future?  Do  you  mind  telling  me  just  what  we  have 
to  spend,  you  and  I?" 

Jean  gazed  long  and  anxiously  into  the  flushed  and 
haggard  countenance,  which  had  erstwhile  been  so 
bonny.  Ruth's  eyes  drooped  secretively,  evading  the 
perplexed  scrutiny. 

In  the  slumberous  quietude,  the  bees  buzzed 
drowsily  over  the  flower-scented  lawn ;  the  old  clock 
ticked  sonorously  in  the  open  hall ;  a  light  breeze 
stirred  the  aspen  leaves  into  a  frenzy.  In  the  dis- 
tance, Mary  Graham  was  entering  Sandy's  cottage 
to  visit  Kathy ;  Dicey  droned  a  hymn  in  her  room 
beyond  the  kitchen ;  a  mocking-bird  was  trilling 
lazily  in  the  topmost  branches  of  a  magnolia.  A 
darksome  dread  compressed  Jean's  heart ;  her  bosom 
ached  with  a  repulsive  foreboding. 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me,  Auntie?"  Ruth  whis- 
pered, hoarsely. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  187 

"You  did  not  sleep  well  last  night,  bairnie,"  Jean 
said,  evasively. 

Ruth  waited  tensely  for  an  answer  to  her  request. 

"I  will  tell  you  exactly,"  Jean  said,  finally  and 
thoughtfully.  "It  is  your  right  to  know.  I  should 
have  told  you  long  ago  if  it  had  occurred  to  me  to 
do  so." 

"Well?"  Ruth  encouraged  her  with  unsmiling 
lips.    She  felt  that  she  was  pleading  for  sanity. 

Jean  deliberated,  arranging  facts  and  sums  men- 
tally and  methodically.  "Your  dear  Mamma,"  she 
resumed  with  precision,  "had  some  of  the  little  for- 
tune left  her  when  Jamie  married  her.  He  never 
touched  a  penny  of  it,  and  neither  have  I.  It 
amounted  to  five  thousand  dollars  then,  and  it  has 
been  accumulating  interest  ever  since,  and  now  it 
must  be  considerable  more  than  that.  It  is  safely 
invested  in  bonds,  where  Jamie  placed  it  after  they 
were  married.  Then  Jamie's  life  was  insured  for 
ten  thousand  dollars,  and  I  had  it  added  to  the  sum 
your  mother  left  for  you."  She  faltered  and  stroked 
Ruth's  hair,  as  Ruth  laid  her  arm  around  her 
shoulders  in  a  silent  caress.  Jean  resolutely  put 
aside  distressing  memories  and  continued : 

"That  is  all  yours  absolutely ;  I  have  no  part  in 
that  money,  and  all  the  balance  will  be  yours  when  I 
pass  away.  I  also  have  a  few  thousands  invested  in 
bonds.  You  know  Archie  left  me  a  farm  that  pays 
me  a  good  rental,  and  I  have  never  used  any  of  it 
here,  for  I  have  never  needed  to  do  so.  Kissic-Dale 
more  than  pays  our  moderate  expenses  ;  and  to  prove 
it  I  could  show  you  as  much  as  we  could  spend  soon, 
in  the  till  of  the  old  chest  in  my  bedroom.  Did  you 
ever  imagine  that  thing  a  bank  as  well  as  a  relic?" 


188  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

Ruth  lifted  her  head  to  smile  wanly.  "No,  but  I 
believed  it  contained  some  mysterious  treasure.  I 
used  to  build  all  sorts  of  romances  concerning  its 
contents.  I  did  not  want  to  know ;  speculation  was 
so  much  more  interesting."  Her  effort  to  be  gay 
ended  Avith  a  sigh. 

"Besides  that  I  have  spoken  of,  there  are  the  thou- 
sands my  father  invested  in  the  bonds  of  the  city  of 

L ,  which  has  been  increasing  steadily  since  his 

death  some  years  before  you  were  born ;  and  lastly, 
here  is  Kissic-Dale,  with  its  hundreds  of  acres  of 
long-leaf  pines,  which  make  the  best  of  lumber,  to 
say  nothing  of  their  possibilities  in  turpentine  and 
rosin.  When  we  choose  to  have  them  worked  or  to 
sell  them  for  lumber,  the  timber  of  our  sand  barrens 
will  become  veritable  gold  mines,  and  the  plantation 
ensures  a  good  living  as  long  as  it  is  cultivated. 

"But  we  do  not  need  our  pines  to  be  sold,  maybe 
never.  It  would  grieve  me  to  know  them  slain.  I 
feel  they  are  living  witnesses  of  the  past,  of  the  lives 
of  those  sleeping  in  the  churchyard  at  the  kirk.  They 
can  wait  indefinitely,  for  you  know  your  Uncle 
Angus  is  quite  wealthy  and  has  never  married,  and 
that  he  says  you  are  his  heiress,"  she  concluded, 
smiling  down  into  the  wan  face  pressed  against  her 
shoulder. 

Ruth's  eyes  were  veiled  inscrutably.  There  were 
purple  shadows  beneath  them;  her  cheeks  were 
flushing  nervously. 

"Now  tell  me  your  plans  for  your  future,  bairnie," 
Jean  queried  anxiously.  "Tell  me  why  you  are  so 
suddenly  and  for  the  first  time  in  your  life  con- 
cerned about  our  finances?" 


A    DAUGHTER     OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  189 

Ruth  answered  with  repressed  urgency.  "I  have 
been  thinking.  Auntie,  or  at  least  I  am  thinking  now, 
that  I  had  rather  go  to  a  more  advanced  college  than 
the  one  I  attended  last  winter.  It  was  so  easy  to  win 
a  diploma  there.  I  wish  to  go  to  the  very  best  school 
in  the  United  States,  get  away  from  everything  local, 
and  be  where  I  can  glimpse  the  wide  world,  all  its 
porgress,  and  meet  people  whose  influence  will  exalt 
my  mind  and  avoid  those  who  will  lower  my  ideals, 
my  first  impressions  of  the  divinity  of  human  life. 
Do  you  not  realize  that  I  am  right,  that  my  ideals  are 
reasonable  and  logical !  And  it  is  mainly  your  fault 
that  only  the  very  best  and  most  conservative  will 
please  me.  I  am  anxious  to  see  and  consult  with 
Uncle  Angus." 

"We  will  write  him  immediately,  my  dear.  You 
know  I  am  replying  to  his  last ;  I  have  not  concluded 
my  letter,"  Jean  suggested  hopefully. 

Ruth  rested  a  moment,  spent  and  listless  with  un- 
resting excitement.  She  was  speaking  with  supreme 
effort,  and  while  doing  so  had  often  moistened  her 
dry  lips,  which  resisted  her  voice  and  refused  to  be 
mobile.  When  finally  she  withdrew  her  eyes  from  a 
vacant  stare  into  blank  distance,  Jean  could  hardly 
bear  the  suffering  appeal,  the  shadows  of  pain  em- 
bodied in  their  strained  expression. 

"Let  us  be  wildly  free  this  summer,  and — and — 
like  the  care-free  birds  wing  our  way  to  another 
clime,  to  Uncle  Angus  in  his  distant  home.  I  wish 
very  much  to  go,  and  he  will  be  so  pleased  to  have 
us  with  him.  We  will  stay  with  him  until  we  can 
arrange  about  the  school ;  Vassar  or  Bryn  Mawr 
I   have  been  planning.     I   like  the   last   name;   it 


190  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

has  a  sound  like  the  old  country,  doesn't  it? 
Say  that  we  will  go,  oh,  please  do !"  she  entreated 
so  vehemently  and  impractically,  the  tears  rose  from 
an  aching  depth  in  Jean's  heart  and  brimmed  her 
eyes  to  an  overflow  she  suppressed  with  difficulty. 

She  began  to  fear  that  Ruth  had  been  smitten  with 
sudden  insanity.  She  searched  the  records  of  the 
lives  of  all  known  MacKenzies  and  was  relieved  that 
she  could  not  recall  a  hint  of  infirm  mentality  in  any 
branch  of  the  family  tree.  Yet  she  nervously  began 
to  reassure  Ruth  that  her  happiness  was  the  para- 
movint  interest  of  hers  and  Angus  Bethune's  lives. 

"Of  course  we  will  go,"  she  promised,  rashly,  for 
until  that  moment  such  an  idea  had  not  entered  her 
mind.  "I  will  arrange  everything  as  you  desire ; 
only  be  happy  and  well  again,  bairnie,  and  I  will  not 
count  the  cost  of  any  undertaking,  but  it  will  take 
some  time  to  bring  it  to  pass,  I  fear." 

"Oh,  no !  I  have  thought  out  the  entire  plan, 
please,  Auntie !  We  must  go  right  away.  I  am  so 
dreadfully  tired,  so  tired,  so  tired!" 

She  leaned  wearily  against  Jean's  shoulder,  the 
white  lids  veiled  her  smarting,  tearless  eyes  ;  the  dark 
lashes  lay  in  the  purple  shadow  encircling  them 
which  showed  lividly  against  the  white  pallor  of  her 
cheeks.  Her  words,  her  manner  awed  Jean  into  an 
anxious  silence. 

"I  have  not  finished ;  I  have  not  explained  my 
plans.  You  must  go  with  me  to  my  school  and  stay 
there  with  me.  We  can  arrange  for  that  also ;  here 
everyone  understands  their  duties  and  will  fulfill 
them ;  Mary,  Dicey,  Sandy  and  David,  and  you  need 
the  change.    You  love  to  know  things  and  appreciate 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  191 

the  world  far  more  than  I  ever  shall.  You  have 
made  yourself  a  recluse  for  my  sake;  now  you  must 
go  abroad  and  acquaint  yourself  with  the  ideas  of 
the  present  day;  you  will  enjoy  that,  dearie.  At  the 
school  we  must  live  comfortably.  I  shall  insist  upon 
the  best  of  everything  for  you.  What  is  the  use  of 
money  but  to  spend  it  reasonably  to  enhance  our 
lives  with  knowledge  and  pleasure  ?  Why  should  we 
not  finally  see  bonny  Scotland?  You  would  enjoy 
that  so  much,  wouldn't  you?  The  dear  scenes  so 
sacred,  the  land  our  forefathers  so  loved  and  cher- 
ished ! — and — and  by-and-by,  when  I  have  grown 
wise  and  strong,  and  peace  is  my  portion,  we  will 
come  back  here  and  I  will  care  for  you  in  your  old 
age  and  repay  your  tenderness  to  me  in  all  the  days 
of  my  life." 

"Hush,  Ruth !"  Jean  commanded,  peremptorily. 
*T  am  giddy  with  the  recital  of  your  astonishing 
plans  and  fancies  !    Be  practical,  dearie." 

"Oh,  but  you  will  heed  them.  Say  you  will, 
Auntie?"  Ruth  wailed  so  desperately  Jean  hastened 
to  promise  again  and  again  that  every  wish  should 
be  gratified,  however  fanciful  and  impractical. 

"My  caged  bird,  so  long  in  captivity,  shall  spread 
its  wings  and  soar  beyond  these  tame  pine-barrens, 
shall  know  the  great  world  of  restless  men  and 
women,  the  scenic  wonders  of  this  mysterious  globe  ! 
But  oh,  bairnie,  I  fear  the  experience  will  render  you 
no  happier ;  happiness  is  purely  a  heart-growth,  and 
you  cannot  be  separated  from  that,  you  know.  When 
weighed  down  with  sorrows  or  restive  from  monot- 
ony, I  have  communed  with  myself,  drilled  my  heart 
into  subjection,  then  bowed  in  reverence  as  the  rod 


192  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

of  affliction  passed  over  my  suffering  life,  until  I 
could  truthfully  say,  'Thy  will  be  done.'  " 

Jean  ceased  her  soothing  monologue  and  waited  to 
know  if  it  had  proved  consoling;  troubled  and  per- 
plexed, she  divined  the  seething  unrest  of  the  young 
soul  she  had  endeavored  to  lead  into  paths  of  peace 
and  holiness  since  Ruth's  earliest  infancy. 

"Thank  you,  Auntie ;  you  are  so  kind,"  Ruth  mur- 
mured, gratefully,  as  she  recalled  how  she  had 
lingered  about  Loch  Lily  on  its  dizziest  brink,  gazing 
into  its  sinister  depths,  fascinated  with  its  menace  to 
life,  which  it  could  so  easily  extinguish. 

It  had  been  her  salvation  that  she  could  not  over- 
come her  repugnance  to  the  object  Jamie  had  drawn 
from  its  placid  water  when  May  skies  were  reflected 
by  its  luminous  surface.  Her  despair  was  fathom- 
less, and  had  submerged  her  care- free  past  as  a 
storm-cloud  obscures  the  sunlight  and  drapes  the 
earth  in  lurid  light. 

One  day  she  had  sat  in  her  room  at  the  college, 
where  the  windows  permitted  an  outlook  of  rolling 
hill-country,  and,  very  distantly,  misty  blue  moun- 
tains horizoned  the  view  from  the  small,  collegiate 
town  which  straggled  over  the  raw  hilltops.  A  white 
sweep  of  March  sunshine  had  irradiated  the  scene, 
blustering  blasts  of  a  fickle  wind  had  been  rocking 
the  leafless  trees  and  swaying  the  coppices  of  green, 
stunted  young  pines,  which  were  as  emerald 
splotches  upon  the  sear  wastes  of  brown  sedge  and 
red  clay  embraced  in  the  landscape.  A  girl  pupil  had 
entered  the  room  flourishing  the  local  newspaper  of 
her  home  town. 

"Oh,  but  they  have  really  married !"  she  had  ex- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  193 

claimed  in  a  flurry  of  girlish  interest.  "Here  is  a 
description  of  their  wedding.  I  knew  them  last 
summer.  They  were  at  Altamount  while  I  was 
there  with  Mamma !  They  were  the  only  engaged 
couple  there  that  we  knew  of.  He  came  to  see  her 
there,  and  brought  such  a  quantity  of  the  sweetest 
flowers ;  she  was  really  insolent  in  her  lavish  display 
of  them  before  our  envious  eyes ;  carnations  and 
roses,  sweet  camelias  and  fuchsias !  She  wore  them 
in  great  clusters  at  her  belt,  even  in  the  daytime,  and 
the  stingy  thing  gave  no  one  so  much  as  a  blossom, 
except  his  sister,  who,  rarely,  had  a  rosebud  or  a 
wilted  carnation ;  but  my !  how  they  smiled  and 
danced  together !  She  quite  appropriated  him ;  let  us 
know,  unmistakably,  he  was  her  property ;  she  actu- 
ally paraded  their  engagement,  she  did,  Miss  Mac- 
Kenzie !"  The  girl  had  chattered  with  a  very  ex- 
aggerated interest  in  matrimony  and  lovers. 

Ruth's  listless  attention  had  not  deterred  her  con- 
fidences, and  she  had  left  the  paper  when  a  voice  had 
called  to  her  from  the  hallway. 

"There  is  Lula  come  to  visit  me,  and  I  must  go  to 
my  room,  but  you  look  it  up  and  read  about  the 
wedding.  It  was  such  a  fine  wedding ;  my !  palms 
and  ferns  and  Southern  smilax ;  fine  dresses  and 
music.  They  were  named  Phillips  and  Endiston, 
and  they  were  married  at  Ardenia,  where  her  father 
has  a  factory." 

She  had  flitted  away  as  Ruth  accepted  the  paper, 
more  in  courtesy  to  the  girl  than  prompted  by 
curiosity. 

But  when  she  had  found  the  notice  of  the  wedding 
and  glanced  over  its  grandiloquent  phrases,  descrip- 


194  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

tive  of  what  it  termed  "a.  marriage  in  high  life,"  a 
torturing  premonition  was  evoked  in  her  mind  by 
the  name  of  PhilHps.  She  had  never  heard  the  name 
of  the  other  party  to  the  marriage  contract,  and  she 
refused  to  believe  it  was  the  Edwin  Phillips  she 
knew.  There  had  been  so  little  said  of  the  bride- 
groom, his  personality  had  been  so  submerged  by 
the  glowing  epithets  bestowed  upon  the  bride  and 
her  successful  father. 

A  few  days  later  on,  a  letter  from  home  had  en- 
lightened her  so  much  her  heart  could  no  longer 
entertain  the  slightest  hope.  She  had  fainted  in  the 
chapel  the  following  morning  as  the  entire  school 
had  been  assembled  for  prayers  and  distribution  of 
mail.  She  had  kept  the  incident  from  Jean,  and 
strove  heroically  to  conceal  her  humiliating  sorrow. 
In  the  restless  mood  of  unaccustomed  suffering,  she 
had  longed  inexpressibly  for  the  haunts  of  her  child- 
hood, for  Jean,  and  the  secure  harbor  of  Kissic- 
Dale's  protecting  love  and  solace. 

The  world  had  not  realized  her  pristine  concep- 
tions of  its  grandeur,  indeed,  it  had  fallen  far  short 
of  the  ideals  that  were  mediocre  standards  at  Kissic- 
Dale ;  yet,  as  the  days  and  weeks  had  dragged  their 
interminable  length,  the  ineffable  peace  and  beauty 
of  home  scenes  had  proven  so  antagonistic  to  the 
dreary  pain  that  filled  her  heart,  daily  and  hourly, 
she  had  become  frantic  for  an  immediate  flight,  since 
an  incident  of  the  previous  afternoon,  when  Sandy 
had  fetched  some  purchases  he  had  made  for  Jean  at 
the  distant  country  store  in  their  present  post  office 
town. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  195 

Sandy  had  tarried  to  relate  bits  of  neighborhood 
news  he  had  gathered  on  the  trip. 

Jean  and  Mary  were  very  much  interested,  and  to 
please  them  he  had  gossiped  for  their  benefit. 

"I  saw  young  Philhps  and  his  wife ;  they  had 
driven  over  there  for  mail,"  he  said,  incidentally, 
when  the  health  and  welfare  of  distant  neighbors 
had  been  discussed  and  he  had  arisen  to  depart. 
"She  is  with  him  now,  at  Dalrymple's,  you  know. 
They  say  they  have  enlivened  up  things  over  there. 
His  sister  is  there  with  his  wife." 

"Is  she?"  Mary  Graham  had  interjected.  "I  heard 
he  had  bought  new  furniture  and  a  carpet  for  his 
room  and  had  everything  quite  stylish  for  his  wife 
when  she  came." 

"He  is  running  an  engine  over  the  tram  road  he 
has  built,  now.  It  leads  from  his  mill  to  the  railroad 
station,"  Sandy  had  remarked  with  keen  interest, 
while  Jean  and  Mary  listened  attentively. 

The  tram  road  was  an  innovation,  something  the 
natives  had  never  dreamed  of,  had  not  imagined 
possible;  the  long,  undulating  lines  of  rough  scant- 
lings laid  without  grading,  over  which  a  small,  spe- 
cially constructed  engine  hauled  flat  cars  loaded  with 
lumber. 

While  the  seductive  subject  had  been  discussed, 
Ruth  had  moved  from  the  circle  to  hide  her  betray- 
ing features.  A  memory  of  the  violent  emotions  of 
that  moment  had  brought  a  sleepless  night  and  a 
suffering  day.  She  had  felt  as  if  paralyzed  with  the 
shock  Sandy's  innocent  words  had  given  her.  A 
flat  dish,  overshadowed  by  thrifty  geraniums,  had 
been,  fortunately,  then  discovered  to  be  dry,  to  the 


196  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

feverish  discontent  of  two  thirsty  pigeons,  who 
lamented  the  fact  with  wistful  plainings.  She  had 
filled  the  dish  and  stood  stroking  the  pets  with 
trembling  hands  until  she  had  gained  strength  to 
escape  to  her  room.  Her  mind  had  held  but  one 
idea  since,  her  heart  but  one  overwhelming  desire ; 
and  that  was  to  go  far  away  and  forget  she  had 
existed  previous  to  that  March  day  which  loomed  on 
the  scroll  of  her  past  as  a  crucifixion  of  her  soul. 

The  frenzy  of  her  mind,  the  dread  of  hearing  or 
seeing  that  which  would  increase  the  torture  of  her 
sufifering  heart,  gave  her  courage  to  form  plans  with 
a  flagellated  conception  and  to  plead  with  Jean  for 
their  execution. 

"You  know,  Auntie,  Mary  cannot  stay  here  alone," 
she  resumed,  lifting  her  mind  from  a  reflective 
silence ;  "you  said  not  long  ago  that  you  would  build 
Neil  a  cottage,  so  that  he  might  marry  Flora  in  the 
early  autumn.  Let  them  marry  right  away!  They 
can  live  with  Mary  while  we  are  away.  You  must 
go  with  me,  and  we  must  go  immediately.  Do  you 
comprehend  how  vitally  I  desire  this,  dearie?" 

"Yes,  yes,  bairnie,  we  will  go.  I  can  soon  arrange 
everything  needful  for  the  trip  and  the  absence.  I 
will  write  another  letter  to  your  uncle  in  reply  to  the 
one  I  received  yesterday.  Yes,  we  will  go ;  rest  here 
while  I  re-write  my  letter." 

So,  after  a  reassuring  kiss  received  by  Ruth's  dry 
and  pleading  lips,  Jean  returned  to  her  desk  and 
wrote  Angus  Bethune  that  Ruth  and  herself  were 
coming  to  visit  him  in  the  immediate  future. 

When  the  .early  evening  meal  was  concluded,  she 
repaired  to  the  parlor  and  opened  the  piano,  seek- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  197 

ing  peace  of  mind  in  voicing  some  of  her  favorite 
hymns.  She  felt  so  much  at  sea,  logical  thought  was 
so  enmeshed  in  an  intangible  anxiety ;  and  Ruth 
wandered  in  aimless  unrest  to  the  rose-garden  and 
sat,  stilled  and  listless,  upon  the  wrought-iron  seat 
beneath  the  ancient  magnolia,  trying  to  wring  from 
torpid  life  some  interest  that  would  infuse  a  natural 
trend  to  the  darkened  way  leading  out  into  a  dim 
and  cheerless  future;  but  she  was  as  insensible  to 
every  objective  influence  as  the  Sphynx  gazing 
stolidly  across  the  desert  throughout  eons  of  time ; 
so  Night,  God's  Angel  Night,  spread  its  brooding 
wings  over  the  gasping  earth  and  dropped  lotus 
petals  upon  the  lids  of  eyes  that  were  aweary,  while 
Ruth  prayed  despairingl}^  for  a  healing  draught  from 
Lethe's  panacean  fountain. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The   Tempest — Kissic-Dale   and   Dreamland — 
With  the  Stoics  in  Zeno's  Poicile. 

."As  the  winged  steeds  of  wrath  are  loosened 
In  elemental  conflict  dread  and  wild 
While  in  the  void  electric  squadrons  wheel 
And  measure  keep  with  earthquakes'  strides  below. 
Then  in  the  calm  that  storms  do  leave,  the  bow 
Of  peace  doth  span  the  circumambient  air 
With  colors  brighter  far  than  painter's  dreams, 
Wrapping  the  soul  in  beauty  soft  and  mild." 

— Selected. 

June  again;  the  last  sultry  days  of  that  ideal 
month,  when  the  sun,  mounting  to  its  uttermost 
zenith,  rains  vertical  rays  direct  upon  its  satellite, 
laboring,  plodding  Earth. 

And  Kissic-Dale  again;  but  a  modernized,  newly 
painted  mansion,  with  re-embellished  interiors, 
which  had  lifted  it  from  the  peaceful  slumber  of  sev- 
eral decades  into  the  wide-awake  up-to-dateness  dis- 
tinguishing recent  innovations  in  progressive  cities. 

There  were  still  the  pine-fringed  horizon,  the 
fruit-laden  orchards,  the  clipped  vineyards,  the  rose- 
garden,  the  old  trees,  the  flowers  and  the  familiar 
faces,  and  the  buildings  were  materially  the  same, 
only    gleaming    in    fresh,    pearl-tinted    colors,    that 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  199 

transformed  the  dignified  old  mansion  into  a  city-like 
appearance  and  elegance. 

Its  spacious  interior  walls  were  aggrandized  by 
embossed  paper  hangings  and  expensive  laces  draped 
the  tall  windows,  while  new  gilded  furniture  put  to 
blush  or  exclusion  the  beloved  old  pieces  which  had 
been  the  pride  of  Jean's  halcyon  youth.  New  pic- 
tures upon  the  walls,  gleaming  bronzes,  poetical  stat- 
uary, modern  mirrors  and  gorgeous  rugs  and  artistic 
bric-a-brac  were  prominent  features  of  the  plan  of 
renovation. 

On  the  lawn  and  in  the  rose  garden  sculptured 
marble  in  graceful  forms  or  in  uncouth  idealizations 
graced  the  scene  by  daylight,  and  amid  night- 
shadows  gleamed  weirdly  as  estraying  phantoms 
from  mythological  realms,  to  Dicey's  great  discom- 
fort. She  disapproved  of  the  heathenish  things,  de- 
claring, "They  most  had  gibben  her  de  jim-jams." 
She  was  frightened  by  them  so  often,  when  she  had 
forgotten  what  they  were. 

Richly  gilded  jardinieres  held  the  cherished  palms 
and  ferns ;  and  a  loquacious  parrot,  a  tiny  French 
poodle,  and  a  cage  of  noisy  canaries  had  been  in- 
stalled as  household  pets. 

Ruth's  plan  of  the  previous  summer  had  thus 
achieved  a  result  unforeseen  and  unpremeditated  in 
her  scheme  of  the  future.  Jean  and  Angus  Bethune 
had  each  been  aroused  and  concerned  by  her  mood, 
and  had  gone  the  length  of  idolatrous  affection  in  an 
endeavor  to  render  life  interesting  and  hopeful,  that 
it  might  fulfill  the  promise  of  her  girlhood. 

The  summer  spent  with  Angus  and  at  the  resorts 
he  had  visited  with  them  had  indeed  improved  and 


200  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

quieted  her.  She  had  developed  a  strength  of  dig- 
nity and  judgment  that  gave  her  a  graceful  and  im- 
perious manner.  Thrown  constantly  among 
strangers,  she  had  soon  learned  the  art  of  polite  and 
cordial  graciousness.  In  replenishing  her  wardrobe 
she  had  chosen  the  richest,  the  most  becoming  toilets, 
yet  had  been  singularly  free  from  any  vain  pleasure 
in  her  appearance  and  the  admiration  accorded  her 
wherever  they  had  appeared. 

Finally  they  had  secured  her  admission  to  a  school 
of  her  choice,  whither  they  both  had  accompanied 
her ;  and  Jean  had  remained  until  after  mid-winter. 
Ruth  had  chosen  an  elective  course  of  study,  and 
had  at  once  gone  to  work  with  an  absorbing  zeal, 
which  had  left  her  no  leisure  for  vain  regrets  or 
brooding  grief. 

Jean,  though  much  gratified  by  the  opportunities 
offered  in  the  nurturing  regime  of  the  college,  yet 
had  found  much  in  Ruth's  behavior  to  perplex  and 
disturb  her.  Ruth  avoided  as  much  as  possible  all 
reference  to  Kissic-Dale  and  discussion  of  home 
news,  and  had  never  expressed  any  desire  to  return 
or  any  regret  for  their  absence  from  the  home.  It 
had  seemed  so  abnormal,  so  unlike  the  gay  girl  who 
had  formerly  lavished  unstinted  affection  upon  every 
object  at  Kissic-Dale. 

When  Angus  had  visited  them  during  the  winter 
holidays  and  proposed  to  take  them  south  and  to 
Kissic-Dale,  Ruth  had  declined  the  trip  and  had  sug- 
gested touring  some  of  the  nearby  Northern  cities, 
which  they  did,  visiting  theatres,  museums,  art  gal- 
leries and  other  points  of  interest  until  Jean,  remon- 
strating, had  declared  she  must  rest ;  then,  while  she 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  201 

had  rested  at  a  hotel,  Angus  had  taken  Ruth  on 
shopping  expeditions,  spending  money  so  lavishly, 
her  thrifty  soul  had  rebelled  against  their  unwonted 
extravagance,  and  she  had  hurried  Ruth  back  to  her 
school. 

Later,  one  evening  at  their  own  room,  Jean,  after 
a  thoughtful  espionage  of  one  of  Ruth's  moody  rev- 
eries, had  said,  sternly  interrogative :  "Are  you 
happy,  bairnie  ?  Is  this  urgent  style  of  living  satisfy- 
ing you  ?" 

"Why  should  I  not  be  happy.  Auntie?"  Ruth  had 
replied,  slowly,  absently,  in  a  voice  strained  of  every 
fibre  of  interest  or  emotion. 

"I  do  not  know  why,  but  at  times  I  am  convinced 
that  you  are  miserable ;  you  are  so  unnatural,  so 
different  from  the  little  girl  I  have  always  so 
cherished,"  Jean  had  responded,  sadly. 

Ruth  had  sat  silent,  gazing  at  her  in  a  melancholy 
too  deep  for  words. 

"I  am  homesick,  bairnie,"  Jean  had  then  con- 
fessed. "I  long  for  home  scenes  and  things  familiar. 
Dr.  Lynshaw  spoke  of  Donald  this  afternoon  when 
I  met  him  on  the  campus.  He  had  met  him  on  a 
recent  visit  to  his  college.  He  says  Donald  is  very 
popular  with  faculty  and  students,  also  with  the  local 
society  of  the  town." 

"Indeed  !"  Ruth  had  replied  listlessly. 

"Yes,  but  Donald  would  be  popular  anywhere.  I 
was  sorry  we  missed  seeing  him  last  summer.  You 
know  Mary  wrote  us  he  came  there  soon  after  we 
had  gone,"  Jean  had  continued. 

"Yes,  Aunty,"  had  been  Ruth's  sole  rejoinder,  and 
Jean  had  lapsed  into  a  thoughtful  silence,  seeing 


202  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

visions  of  past  days  and  fancying  future  ones  at 
Kissic-Dale.  Her  heart  had  turned  yearningly  back 
to  the  dear  old  home  and  the  familiar  faces  she  had 
been  so  accustomed  to  see.  She  had  been  aroused 
by  Ruth's  voice  singing  softly,  but  with  plaintive  sad- 
ness and  regret : 

"Oh,  the  days  of  the  Kerry  dancing! 
Oh,  the  ring  of  the  piper's  tune! 
Oh,  for  one  of  those  hours  of  gladness! 
Gone,  alas!  like  our  youth,  too  soon." 

She  sang  so  hopelessly  and  with  such  pathos  of 
feeling,  Jean  had  cried  :  "Oh,  hush,  bairnie !  I  can- 
not bear  it !  Youth  is  yours  and  all  its  golden 
promises !  If  you  do  not  fulfill  them  it  will  be  your 
own  fault  or  a  perverse  temperament." 

Ruth,  gazing  wistfully  at  her  mentor,  had  said, 
with  infinite  finality :  "Oh,  3^ou  do  not  know.  Auntie, 
therefore  cannot  understand!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  bairnie?"  Jean  questioned, 
but  Ruth  had  evaded  the  issue  by  smiling  wanly  and 
changing  the  subject,  determinately. 

While  Ruth  had  been  visiting  the  music  rooms,  the 
studios,  and  the  class  halls,  pursuing  with  tireless 
zeal  the  accomplishments  she  was  striving  to  attain, 
Jean  had  brooded  much  alone  in  their  chamber.  She 
had  not  been  alienated  in  the  least  from  any  former 
interest,  but  withal,  she  had  enjoyed  her  belated 
journey  into  the  world  keenly ;  the  quiet,  cultured 
realm  of  the  college  community,  the  glimpsing  of  life 
in  fine  hotels,  the  gorgeous  staging  of  operas,  the 
long  galleries  of  art,  the  expensively  equipped  mu- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  203 

seums  and  libraries,  the  bustle  and  throngs  of  the 
great  cities  and  streets,  and  the  swift  rush  of  life  in 
commercial  centres,  but  yet  she  had  longed  intensely 
for  the  peace  of  her  "ain  hame  an'  steadin,"  and 
when  spring  drew  near,  she  became  restive. 

"I  want  to  be  at  home  planting  things  and  seeing 
things  resurrected  from  the  spell  of  winter,"  she  had 
complained  so  pathetically,  Ruth  had  consented  for 
her  to  leave  her  and  return  to  Kissic-Dale. 

A  more  vital  reason  than  homesickness  had 
spurred  Jean's  innate  desire  for  the  comforts  of  her 
home  into  a  pressing  need.  She  had  been  impressed 
that  Ruth  was  enamored  with  modern  luxury,  and 
did  not  appreciate  the  touch  of  time  more  or  less  im- 
printed upon  every  object  at  Kissic-Dale.  She  had 
recalled  her  own  enjoyment  of  the  innovations  ren- 
dered as  a  tribute  to  her  own  youth  and  social  prom- 
inence. She  still  prized  family  prestige  very  highly, 
her  pride  of  race,  of  ancestral  traditions,  were  sacred 
heritages  to  be  perpetuated  inviolate  and  unslighted. 
She  had  closely  observed  in  her  travels  and  had 
labored  zealously  since  her  return.  She  had  been 
disappointed,  but  not  disheartened,  when  Ruth  de- 
layed her  own  return  weeks  beyond  the  annual  ex- 
piration of  the  school  term.  Her  excuse  for  the 
delay  had  been  the  inducements  offered  by  a  sum- 
mer course  of  special  studies,  from  which  she 
would  spare  a  fortnight  of  time  during  the  season's 
solstice,  when  it  would  be  difficult  to  work,  and  pay 
Kissic-Dale  a  visit. 

"I  am  making  up  for  lost  time.  I  am  getting  too 
old  not  to  be  more  informed  of  subjects  that  I  deem 
essential   for  my  future  usefulness  and  pleasure," 


204  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

she  had  written,  most  practically.  "When  I  am 
quite  through,  I  shall  devote  my  talents  to  the  edifi- 
cation of  you  and  Uncle  Angus,  and  to  the  honor  of 
my  family  tree." 

On  that  sultry  day  in  June  she  had  at  last  arrived, 
and  the  day  was  celebrated  throughout  Kissic-Dale 
as  a  very  glad  one,  indeed. 

"It  is  so  nice  to  be  at  home ;  I  am  sure  to  enjoy 
every  precious  moment !"  she  declared,  happily,  as 
she  stood  once  more  on  the  broad  veranda  in  the 
midst  of  the  assembled  homefolks.  When  the  greet- 
ings were  finished  and  she  had  a  moment  to  glance 
over  material  objects,  she  stood  amazed,  as  she 
swiftly  comprehended  the  change  wrought  by  Jean's 
masterful  skill  and  unwonted  generosity. 

"Oh,  Auntie !"  she  exclaimed,  in  undisguised  dis- 
may and  reproach.  Ere  Jean  could  speak  she  real- 
ized that  she  was  wilfully  inconsistent.  Had  she  not 
prayed  that  the  roses  might  be  faded  entirely,  that 
the  home  might  be  as  prosaic  and  sordid  as  was  pos- 
sible to  its  sentimental  atmosphere ;  and  had  she  not 
dreaded,  with  unspeakable  pain,  the  memories  it 
might  evoke  in  her  sternly  trained  emotions  ? 

"It  was  for  your  sake,  bairnie,  your  enjoyment 
solely,  that  I  have  been  to  this  expense  and  trouble. 
It  had  been  so  long  since  we  had  made  any  improve- 
ments, I  could  not  blame  you  for  disliking  the  old- 
fashioned  home.  To  your  enlightened  and  youthful 
mind,  it  must  have  seemed  mediaeval." 

"How  you  have  misconceived  my  heart.  Auntie !" 
Ruth  observed,  passionately.  "I  loved  the  old 
state  of  things  and  revered  it  more  than  anything 
else  in  this  world,  but  perhaps  you  have  acted  with 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  205 

providential  wisdom ;  no  doubt  but  that  you  have 
been  entirely  right  in  catering  to  my  supposed  ambi- 
tion. Anyway,  our  happiness  is  not  conserved  by 
material  things,  but  by  the  way  we  utilize  our 
talents." 

She  put  her  arms  around  Jean,  contritely.  "Thank 
you,  darling  Auntie !  But  oh,  how  you  must  have 
been  slaving  and  planning  to  accomplish  so  much  in 
such  a  limited  period." 

"It  was  all  finished  weeks  agone,"  Jean  informed 
her.  "I  am  anxious  for  you  to  appreciate  your 
home.    I  love  it  dearly,  bairnie." 

"I  do  appreciate  it,  and  I  will  enjoy  every  moment 
of  my  stay  here,  I  am  sure,"  Ruth  responded  with  in- 
tense sincerity,  yet  she  breathed  as  a  child  who  reso- 
lutely endures  pain,  or  overcomes  sorrow. 

When  the  heat  and  dust  of  the  long  journey  had 
been  exorcised  by  refreshing  rest  amid  the  comforts 
of  the  cool  rooms  and  she  was  girlishly  fresh  in  a 
simple  white  toilet,  Jean  led  her  from  room  to  room, 
to  acquaint  her  with  their  changed  appearance.  She, 
dutifully,  admired,  and  lent  approval  to  every 
detail,  flattering  Jean's  taste  and  artistic  discrim- 
ination so  skillfully,  her  countenance  beamed  with 
a  satisfaction  she  had  not  experienced  since  her 
self-imposed  task  was  undertaken. 

"Donald  may  be  here  to-morrow,"  Jean  remarked, 
as  they  entered  the  parlor.  "He  was  here  some  three 
weeks  ago,  and  I  found  him  much  improved  in  every 
way.  He  has  attained  his  degree  and  secured  a  good 
position  in  a  Western  college.  He  asked  me  many 
questions  concerning  you ;  he  is  very  anxious  to  see 
you,  and,  according  to  a  promise  I  gave  him,  I  have 


206  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

written  him  the  exact  date  of  your  arrival,  and  he 
may  be  here  to-morrow  or  the  day  after.  Here  is 
your  Daphne  portrait,  Ruth  !  Donald  spent  moments 
gazing  upon  it.  I  informed  him  of  the  interest  it 
had  excited  in  artistic  circles." 

Ruth  advanced  to  the  position  of  the  picture, 
on  the  space  between  the  two  eastern  windows. 

"Who  informed  you  of  that  interesting  fact?"  she 
demanded,  when  she  comprehended  Jean's  mysteri- 
ous knowledge  of  the  fame  the  portrait  had  really 
achieved  during  the  commencement  season  at  her 
college. 

"Mrs.  Beale  and  others  of  our  mutual  acquaint- 
ance, Ruthie,"  Jean  informed  her,  smiling  shrewdly. 

"And  it  did  not  occur  to  you  that  Mrs.  Beale  had 
sold  you  this  at  an  exorbitant  figure?  and  that  she 
was  attaining  a  coveted  reputation  by  acclaiming  the 
merits  of  her  masterpiece,  as  she  was  pleased  to  style 
my  portrait,  in  which  she  has  so  idealized  me  I  hardly 
recognize  myself  as  the  original?"  Ruth  queried  and 
remarked,  critically. 

"Do  not  be  cynical,  Ruthie.  I  detest  a  supercilious 
woman,"  Jean  rebuked  her  niece's  unusual  asperity. 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  Auntie.  I  spoke  without  re- 
flection," Ruth  submitted. 

"The  portrait  is  just  as  you  used  to  be,"  Jean  de- 
clared convincingly.  "Donald  said  it  was  a  wonder- 
ful likeness  and  a  true  artist  must  have  executed  the 
sympathetic  study  of  your  lineaments." 

Ruth  viewed  the  portrayal  of  herself,  silently  and 
searchingly,  and  a  deprecating  frown  clouded  her 
features.  Alas !  Mrs.  Beale  had  been  too  literal  in 
her  reproduction ;    she  had  probed  beneath  the  as- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  207 

sumption  and  pose  that  had  rigidly  guarded  her  real 
self,  peered  beyond  the  shadow  veiling  her  soul  from 
the  gaze  of  the  curious  and  observant.  She  won- 
dered if  Donald  had  noted  it,  that  ogre  which  had 
been  a  stranger  to  her  life  when  she  knew  him. 

Hundreds  of  discriminating  people  had  pro- 
nounced the  portrait  indescribably  beautiful  during 
the  art  exhibit  of  the  school,  where  it  had  proven  to 
be  the  piece  de  resistance  in  the  splendid  array  of 
talent  shown.  Repeatedly  she  had  been  sought  for 
and  impelled  to  meet  admiring  groups  of  strangers, 
who  gazed  upon  her  reverently,  if  curiously.  How 
much  she  had  regretted  posing  for  the  picture !  She 
would  never  confess  to  Jean,  who,  yielding  to  the 
insistence  of  Mrs.  Beale,  had  influenced  her  in  posing 
as  a  flower-crowned  Daphne  that  she  might  obtain  a 
copy. 

"Ruth,"  Jean  recalled  her  from  a  retrospective  of 
many  memories  pertaining  to  the  speaking  if  insen- 
sate shadow  of  herself,  "did  I  write  you  of  Edwin 
Phillips  bringing  his  wife  here  some  time  about  the 
first  of  this  month?" 

"No,  Auntie,  you  did  not  mention  it  that  I  re- 
member," was  the  casual  if  forced  response  from 
Ruth,  who  moved  restively  as  her  features  settled 
swiftly  into  stern,  set  lines,  robbing  her  lips  of  all 
mobility. 

"Well,  they  were  here  and  spent  most  of  the  day," 
Jean  related,  not  discerning  Ruth's  sudden  reserve 
and  cold  attention.  "She  said,  frankly,  that  she  had 
heard  of  the  flowers  at  this  place  and  made  him  bring 
her.  Your  picture  reminded  me  of  her,  and — and  I 
did  not  quite  like  her,  which  I  regretted,  for  I  was 


208  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

very  fond  of  Edwin,  as  you  may  remember,  before 
his  marriage ;  but  she  seemed  to  regard  me  and  my 
home  as  a  sort  of  menagerie  she  was  privileged  to 
view  and  comment  upon  unceremoniously.  Edwin 
was  very  quiet,  inclined  to  silence,  while  she  did  most 
of  the  talking.  He  came  to  see  me  about  a  section  of 
timber  that  is  sandwiched  in  among  a  tract  of  Colin 
Gilmour's  his  company  has  purchased  for  lumber. 
After  dinner  we  were  in  here  for  some  time,  and  she 
opened  and  played  the  piano;  afterward  she  found 
your  picture,  which  I  had  hung  the  day  previous. 

"  'Who  is  it?'  she  inquired  brusquely,  as  she  indi- 
cated the  picture  with  pointing  finger,  and  I  in- 
formed her  that  it  was  my  niece,  then  studying  in 
the  North.  Edwin  did  not  answer,  but  sat  down  and 
stared  through  the  window,  as  if  to  avoid  any  dis- 
cussion of  the  subject,  but  she  appealed  to  him 
directly  by  asking:  'Did  you  know^  this  Ruth, 
Edwin?'  I  resented  that  he  had  never  mentioned 
you  to  his  wife  after  being  entertained  here  so  fre- 
quently, formerly.  'Of  course  he  did,'  I  exclaimed, 
I  fear  somewhat  indignantly,  and  she  ignored  me 
to  quiz  him  farther.  'Is  she  the  person  who  sent 
Delia  and  I  roses  that  summer?  I  thought  she  was 
some  old  maid  from  the  way  you  spoke  of  her !' 
Edwin  replied  very  quietly  but  positively :  'You  are 
mistaken,  Maude;  I  never  mentioned  the  donor  to 
you.  I  delivered  the  flowers  to  Delia,  to  whom 
they  were  given.' 

"  'And  it  was  from  this  place  you  brought  those 
flowers  to  Altamount?'  she  resumed  reminiscently. 
'I  want  to  see  where  they  grew,  especially  those  car- 
nations I  wore  while  we  danced  that  evening!'  and 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  209 

I  had  to  go  with  her  to  the  carnation  plot,  and  she 
gathered  your  blossoms  ruthlessly." 

"But  why  do  you  tell  me  this,  Auntie?  We  are 
accustomed  to  giving  away  flowers !"  Ruth  inter- 
posed in  a  hard  tone  that  she  contrived  to  render 
steady. 

"Because  I  resented  the  way  she  spoke  of  you, 
bairnie,  and — his  allowing  it,"  Jean  explained  de- 
fensively. "But  when  we  returned  to  the  house  and 
entered  the  parlor,  I  found  him  standing  in  front 
of  your  picture,  studying  it  intently;  then  I  forgave 
him  his  previous  indifference.  Where  are  you  going, 
Ruth  ?  You  have  not  seen  the  room  that  I  was  most 
anxious  to  show  you,"  Jean  remonstrated,  as  Ruth 
was  passing  abruptly  from  the  room. 

"I  will  see  everything  later ;  I  am  very  tired,  you 
must  remember,  dearie,  and  I  must  rest  a  while." 
And  keeping  her  face  averted  from  Jean's  stare, 
she  passed  out  hurriedly,  leaving  Jean  to  follow  at 
her  leisure. 

As  the  afternoon  waned,  a  lurid  light  marked  the 
eventide.  Dark  cloud-banks  loomed  on  the  western 
horizon  ;  an  ominous  stillness  prevailed. 

"We  shall  have  a  storm  to-night,  I  think,"  Mary 
Graham  remarked  as  they  came  out  to  the  veranda 
after  an  early  supper.  Jean  prophesied  that  the 
storm  would  be  severe,  but  it  would  clear  the  atmos- 
phere of  much  of  its  sultriness  for  another  day. 
"You  could  not  have  chosen  a  worse  time  for  travel, 
bairnie,  than  the  past  two  days ;  they  have  been  in- 
sufferably oppressive,"  she  asserted. 

They  tarried  in  the  outdoor  air  until  near  mid- 
night, but  the  storm  yet  delaying  its  approach,  they 


210  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

finally  sought  rest  in  sleep,  but  soon  were  aroused  by 
a  violent  tempest  of  wind  and  electricity  and  down- 
pouring  rain ;  the  night  became  hideous  with  the  up- 
roarious tumult  of  the  storm-charged  elements. 

Ruth  was  assailed  with  an  unconquerable  nervous- 
ness, which  drove  her  from  her  room  in  a  quest  for 
comfort  with  Jean  and  Mary. 

"I  am  afraid,  Auntie ;  sore  afraid !"  she  appealed, 
shivering  with  dread  and  the  chill  of  her  sensations, 
as  the  clap  and  detonation  of  huge  thunderbolts 
seemed  to  rend  the  earth  asunder  and  the  house 
quivered  upon  its  stable  foundations  frorw  the  rush- 
ing impact  of  the  shrieking  winds ;  and  so  it  was  as 
cloud  after  cloud  arose  and  passed  over,  spending  its 
fury,  deafeningly. 

Finally,  restless  with  the  strain  imposed  upon  her 
courage,  Ruth  wandered  to  an  eastern  window, 
where  she  viewed  with  a  weird  fascination,  by  the 
light  of  continuous  flashes  of  lightning,  the  wind  and 
rain  pelting  trees  and  flowers ;  and  gazed  afar  off  to 
where  the  forest  bowed  and  writhed,  and  lowering 
clouds,  black  as  coal  smoke,  dropped  glittering  bolts 
of  swift  destructive  power.  The  imagery  and  fancies 
of  her  childhood  seemed  to  be  reincarnated  by  the 
storm. 

She  experienced  a  peculiar  reverence  for  the  spec- 
tacular strife,  that  battle  of  the  atmospheric  gods, 
furious  amid  the  forces  of  Nature;  Neptune  uplift- 
ing the  flood-gates  of  his  realm  with  his  pronged  tri- 
dent; Boreas,  awful  breath  whizzing  and  shrieking 
wrath,  lashing  with  insensate  fury  the  submissive, 
moaning  forest ;  Jupiter  hurling,  with  ponderous 
might,  irresistible  missiles  of  streaming  fire;  the  con- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  211 

quered  earth  drenched  in  penitential  tears,  flowing 
in  the  wake  of  victory. 

Jean  found  her  and  stood  by  her  side,  silent  and 
reflective,  until  the  crisis  of  the  tempests  was  spent 
and  the  storm-clouds  were  massed  in  ebon  array 
against  the  eastern  horizon ;  until  the  flashes  of  elec- 
tricity became  intermittent  and  the  trees  dripped 
splashing  showers  of  intercepted  raindrops.  Then, 
still  gazing  abroad,  viewing  the  shivering  and  sigh- 
ing forest,  she  said,  impellingly :  "You  did  not  wait 
to  hear  the  point  of  my  story  about  Edwin  and  his 
wife!  I  am  reminded  of  it  by  conjecturing  the  de- 
struction such  storms  as  this  entails  upon  the  timber. 
I  was  thinking  of  Edwin,  who,  I  have  been  informed, 
is  working  slavishly  to  wring  fortune  from  its  re- 
sources. He  must  be  enamored  with  the  pines,  but 
I  did  not  used  to  think  so.  His  wife  said  that  day, 
when  speaking  of  the  carnations  she  wore  in  the 
dance,  that  he  had  worn  a  small  twig  of  pine  upon 
his  coat  lapel,  that  he  had  pretended  to  wear  it  as  a 
symbol  of  his  work  here." 

Ruth  leaned  wearily  against  the  window  frame. 
"Do  you  think  he  is  happy  now?"  she  questioned 
wistfully. 

"I  suppose  so;  I  have  seen  so  little  of  him,  only 
that  one  time.  He  is  more  serious,  more  quiet,  less 
effusive  than  formerly,  but  yes,  I  suppose  he  is  quite 
happy.  His  wife  is  a  very  stylish,  very  handsome 
girl,"  Jean  replied,  reservedly. 

"I  am  very  tired  now,  and  perhaps  I  can  sleep," 
Ruth  said,  breaking  a  short  silence  in  which  she  had 
assured  herself  that  the  storm  had  passed  on  and 
silvery  stars  twinkled  from  a  band  of  purple  sky, 


212  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

showing  in  a  rift  of  the  storm  wracks.  Jean  left  her 
comfortably  disposed  in  bed,  and  she  believed  she 
would  soon  be  asleep.  The  previous  night  had  been 
spent  in  travel,  and  she  had  ridden  from  the  distant 
station  in  the  sultry  forenoon  hours.  Surely,  she 
must  sleep  well  and  dreamlessly  from  sheer  fatigue ; 
and  ere  long  she  did  succumb  to  the  languorous  spell 
of  the  tempestuous  night  and  extreme  weariness; 
and  then  in  dreamland,  in  snow  white  apparel,  she 
chased  white  butterflies  over  the  orchard  carpeted 
with  white  clover  blooms,  gazed  upon  silver-winged, 
brilliant-hued  birds  flitting  amidst  snow-white  blos- 
soms crowning  the  apple  trees.  Bevies  of  white 
pigeons  circled  upward,  silhouetted  against  a 
turquoise  sky,  keeping  pace  with  her  swift,  uncertain 
movements. 

A  weird  radiance,  remarkably  luminous,  dazzled 
her  vision  and  concealed  some  indefinite  object  of 
her  unresting  quest.  Anon  the  scene  changed,  and 
she  was  down  by  Loch  Lily,  whose  surface  gleamed 
with  the  waxen  sheen  of  blossoms ;  and  later  in  the 
tangles  of  the  green  woods  where  cloying  tendrils 
clutched  and  rent  her  filmy  raiment  as  she  played 
hide  and  seek  with  wondrously  clad  fairies. 

Unresting,  but  ever  brilliant  and  radiant,  a 
dazzling  kaleidoscope,  fairer  than  any  scene  em- 
braced by  land  or  sea,  was  unrolled  upon  the  mys- 
terious landscape  of  her  slumbering  brain,  until 
finally  she  was  in  the  parlor  as  it  used  to  be,  and  the 
people  assembled  there  were  white-robed  and  statu- 
esquely  silent. 

Instinctively,  she  was  aware  that  her  Uncle  Angus 
was  being  united  in  marriage  to  some  invisible  per- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  213 

son  she  labored  in  vain  to  behold.  In  tattered  robes, 
she  stood  afraid  while  the  marriage  was  being  solem- 
nized and  Angus  posed  with  bowed  head  and  clasped 
hands  before  a  white-haired  minister  who  was  sol- 
emnly reading  the  service.  Beyond  Angus  was  an- 
other bowed  head,  crowned  with  orange  blossoms, 
and  that  invisible,  mysterious  party  to  the  marriage 
contract,  aroused  an  excruciating  anxiety  in  her 
mind.  She  must  know !  Oh,  why  was  the  identity 
hidden  from  her?  She  cried  aloud  for  Jean  in  an 
agony  of  smothering  distress,  and  Jean  answered 
her. 

"What  is  it,  bairnie  ?  Have  I  frightened  you  ?  See ! 
The  sun  is  shining.  It  is  near  nine  o'clock  of  this 
beautiful  morning,  and  breakfast  is  waiting  for  you,' 
she  exhorted,  leaning  above  the  bed  whereon  Ruth 
struggled  into  consciousness  and  with  supreme  efifort 
emerged  from  the  spell  of  dreams.  Her  veins 
throbbed  like  a  tumultuous  stream,  her  eyes  smarted 
in  a  burning  dearth  of  moisture,  her  heart  tripped  as 
a  leaden  hammer  and  her  mind  reeled  with  an  un- 
canny premonition  of  evil.  Then  she  realized  that 
she  had  awakened  in  her  own  room  in  the  rear  of  the 
parlor,  that  the  sweet  breath  of  flowers  entered 
through  the  open  windows,  and  she  caught  the  fond 
cooing  of  her  pigeons  at  the  dove-cote,  the  tinkle  of 
distant  bells  afar  off  in  wheat  pastures,  and  beheld 
Jean's  adoring  countenance  bending  solicitously 
toward  her.  She  stretched  forth  her  arms  and  clasp- 
ing Jean's  neck,  impulsively  kissed  her. 

After  breakfast  she  expressed  a  wish  to  go  out 
into  the  bright  sunshine  and  the  radiant  warmth  of 
the  perfect  morning.    "You  may  unpack  my  trunks. 


214  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

I  have  a  present  in  them  for  each  one,  remember," 
she  said,  in  a  tone  of  bhtheness. 

She  loitered  in  the  rose-garden  and  then,  passing 
from  the  dove-cote,  went  down  to  the  barn  to  view 
the  animals.  There  were  none  in  their  stalls,  being 
out  in  the  pastures,  but  Sandy  was  there,  placing 
upon  the  broad  back  of  one  of  the  gentle  horses  a 
large  sack  of  grain.  Ezeke,  gawky  with  uncouth 
growth,  was  helping  to  balance  the  ungainly  burden. 
Sandy  explained  that  it  was  choice  corn,  to  be 
ground  into  fine  meal  for  the  pantry.  The  torrential 
rains  of  the  past  night  had  reminded  him  that  Gil- 
mour's  mill,  so  primitive  and  small,  would  be  flush 
with  water,  and  he  was  sending  the  grice  that  it 
might  be  ground  while  there  was  water  to  turn  the 
wheel. 

Ruth  had  an  instant  inspiration  that  she  must  go 
over  and  sketch  the  little  mill  and  the  homestead  in 
the  hollow  of  low  hills  seen  distantly  from  the  upper 
windows  of  Kissic-Dale,  and  present  it  to  Mrs. 
Beale,  who  was  ever  alert  for  quaint  and  novel  sub- 
jects for  her  art  class.  Ezeke  rode  proudly  away, 
astride  of  the  corn-sack,  with  the  appearance  of  a 
grasshopper  crouched  for  a  spring,  elated  that  for 
the  moment  he  was  master  of  the  equine  whose 
docility  would  ensure  safety  to  his  precarious  seat 
and  amateurish  equestrianism. 

Out  in  the  woods  Ruth  stroked  the  fawn-colored 
calves  and  gathered  the  tender  leaves  of  hickory  and 
other  growths  that  she  might  crush  and  inhale  their 
woodland  incense. 

Jean  had  warned  her  away  from  the  spring  and 
the  flood-drenched  glens  below,  and  she  confined  her 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  215 

wanderings  to  upland  pastures  and  forest.  When 
quite  spent  with  tramping  she  rested  awhile  upon  a 
gravelled  knoll  in  the  shade  of  a  gray-trunked  post- 
oak,  and,  through  vistas  of  leaves  and  tendrils, 
glimpsed  the  billowy  sea  of  primeval  pines  beyond 
the  valley  in  which  lay  Kissic-Dale,  with  its  broad 
fields  and  the  winding  stream  of  Holly  Creek. 

Ruth  experienced  an  affinity  with  the  remoteness 
of  her  position ;  in  the  aloofness  of  her  present 
ideals ;  her  aspirations  and  achievements.  She  re- 
joiced that  she  could  no  more  enter  into  the  fancies 
and  passions  of  her  past  than  Eve  could  return  to 
the  sword-guarded  haunts  of  Paradise.  With  swift 
retrospection,  she  reviewed  her  stern  effort  to  ascend 
to  the  emotionless  plane  of  the  Stoics,  to  hve  in  the 
calm,  rare  atmosphere  of  philosophical  composure. 

It  is  lonely  upon  the  heights  which  test  the 
strength  and  courage  in  attaining  such  extreme  alti- 
tude, and  she  was  conscious  of  an  acute  loneliness,  a 
bitter  bereavement,  a  chill  of  the  heart,  there  in  the 
diffusive  sun  cheer  and  the  smiling  warmth  and 
beauty  of  an  ideal  summer  landscape.  In  vain  the 
birds  sang,  the  sunshine  danced,  the  green  leaves 
quivered,  and  the  woods  breathed  their  sylvan  in- 
cense ;  never  again  would  such  charms  set  her  young 
heart  pulsing,  her  sensitive  fancies  teeming  with  in- 
toxicating hopes  and  anticipations. 

The  incidents  Jean  had  related  so  innocently  had 
hurt,  for  a  moment,  as  the  cruel  tearing  apart  of 
partially  healed  wounds  in  sensitive  flesh,  but  she 
had  acquired  strength  to  conquer  and  subdue  even 
such  sharp  and  sudden  pain.  The  year  of  heroic 
discipline  had  not  been  in  vain;   she  had  learned 


216  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

there,  where  the  scenes  of  her  heart's  tragedy  con- 
fronted her  with  their  suggestions  of  the  past,  the 
dead  and  buried  past,  beyond  resurrection,  irretriev- 
ably cast  into  outer  darkness.  The  proof  was,  that 
she  could  recall  it  all  and  be  as  calm  and  as  chillily 
serene  as  winter's  distant  stars ;  the  happy  result  of 
mental  culture,  of  metaphysical  and  logical  training 
directly  opposed  to  the  flaming  violence  of  emotional 
ardor. 

It  was  true  that  in  the  tempestuous  night  she  had 
been  weakly  afraid  of  the  storm,  weirdly  wrought 
with  a  superstitious  thrill  that  Fate  was  confronting 
her  with  stern  and  brawling  menace ;  but  that  tem- 
porary nervousness  had  been  the  eflFects  of  fatigue, 
of  enervation  from  extreme  sultriness ;  purely  phys- 
ical exhaustion,  not  the  cowardice  of  soul.  In  the 
revealing  light  of  a  cloudless  day  and  the  influence 
of  oxygen- freighted  atmosphere,  those  phantoms  of 
the  tempest  and  feverish  dreams,  and  their  dismal 
prescience,  had  dispelled  in  obedience  to  a  mandate 
of  the  gods  who  mercifully  blind  those  whom  they 
wish  to  destroy. 

In  the  meantime,  Ezeke  had  arrived  at  Gilmour's 
mill.  A  sandy  roadway  led  abruptly  to  the  shanty- 
like structure  below  the  small  homestead,  consisting 
of  a  tiny  cotton  field,  a  potato  patch,  an  orchard,  and 
a  low,  be-sheltered  farmhouse  with  its  restricted 
dooryard  gay  with  blooming  roses  and  flaming 
annuals.  The  mill  stood  precariously  upon  the  brink 
of  the  log-padded  dam,  that  imprisoned  a  small  pond 
of  water,  which  served  to  turn  the  great  water- 
wheel,   that   was   almost  as   large  as   the   building 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  217 

erected  to  accommodate  a  miniature  arrangement  for 
grinding  meal  and  hominy. 

The  flour-dusted  door  was  closed,  the  noisy  mill 
silent,  the  water  trickled  through  the  sluiceway  and 
dripped  from  the  green,  moss-covered  paddles  of  the 
ponderous  wheel. 

Mrs.  Gilmour,  gathering  fruit  in  the  orchard, 
called  to  Ezeke :  "You  might  blast  the  horn !  He's 
being  in  the  woods  anon,  but  I'm  expecting  him.  He 
went  wtih  a  man  to  scan  timber,  but  won't  be  gone 
long." 

Ezeke  had  dismounted  pamfuUy,  with  twofold  ap- 
prehension. He  feared  the  unbalancing  of  the  grain 
and  that  the  Gilmour's  great  yellow  dog  might  re- 
spond to  his  call  for  the  miller.  With  trembling 
fingers  he  secured  the  cow's  horn  suspended  by  a 
leather  thong  from  a  nail  in  the  doorpost,  and  made 
abortive  attempts  to  summon  Colin  Gilmour,  the 
miller,  and  Kissic-Dale's  nearest  neighbor.  The 
forest  had  resounded  with  his  demoniac  screeches 
until  he  was  rewarded  by  the  appearance,  from  out 
the  forest,  of  the  flamboyantly  bearded  miller,  with 
the  yellow  dog  trotting  at  his  heels. 

"You  must  leave  your  grice  until  its  turn  comes  to 
be  ground,"  he  informed  Ezeke,  who  was  eyeing 
the  dog  nervously.  "JMan !  but  all  the  neighbors  are 
wanting  meal,  and  you  have  many  ahead  of  you." 

Ruth,  returning,  lingered  in  the  rose-garden  to 
view  the  modern  note  Jean  had  imparted  to  that 
treasured  spot ;  the  most  artistic  object  was  a  basin 
fringed  with  wood-ferns  and  mosses,  its  shallow 
water  floating  lily-pads,  through  which  a  sculptured 
"Father  Neptune"  had,  apparently,  pushed  his  way 


218  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

to  hold  aloft  his  three-pronged  trident.  Naiads  and 
Nymphs  hid  in  the  ferns  drooping  to  the  water's 
edge,  and  Neptune's  son  and  trumpeter,  Amphibious 
Triton,  stood  boldly  forth  amid  the  fantastic  circle, 
tooting  a  spiral  shell.  Ruth  was  absorbed  in  a  study 
of  the  statuary  and  in  wondering  how  Jean  had 
found  the  cheap  but  artistic  group  so  aptly  set  among 
her  roses. 

The  sun  shone  fiercely  and  thirstily,  sipping  the 
last  drop  of  moisture  from  turf  and  foliage,  but  its 
ferocity  had  not  intimidated  Ruth,  who  seemed  to 
revel  in  its  Southern  fervor. 

As  she  finally  proceeded  leisurely  toward  the 
house,  the  peace  of  the  wood-crested  hills  where  the 
birds  sang  so  blithely  in  the  unworldly  seclusion  of 
the  sylvan  solitude,  was  rudely  dispelled  from  her 
mind  by  Dicey's  greeting:  "Come  on,  fer  gracious 
sake,  child !"  she  cried,  distractedly.  ''Dey  ain't  er 
soul  here  but  me,  an  'somebody's  dead,  shore's  yer 
born,  ober  yander."  She  waved  her  arms  indefinitely 
and  tragically. 

"Are  you  crazy,  Dicey?"  Ruth  exclaimed,  in  be- 
wilderment ;  Dicey's  disordered  turban  and  excited 
manner  appeared  to  her  very  unseemly. 

"Wish  I  was  crazy,  an'  not  dis  t'other  thing  hap- 
pened," Dicey  retorted  dolefully. 

Ruth  laid  her  hand  upon  the  cook's  arm  and  said 
reassuringly,  "Be  quiet,  do,  and  explain.  You  have 
frightened  me." 

"Why,  'twas  dis  way.  Mars  Neil  he  come  runnin' 
down  through  the  orchard  and  hollered  sumfin'  to 
Miss  Jean  an'  IMars  Donald,  who  had  just  come,  an' 
dey  got  up  some  things  in  less  dan  a  minute  an'  druv 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  219 

er-way  in  Mars  Donald's  buggy.  His  horse  hadn't 
even  been  unhitched,  I  tell  ye,  and  Miss  Mary  said 
someone  was  dying  in  the  woods,  an'  she  went  off 
to  Miss  Kathy's  'fore  I  could  say  er  word.  Den 
David  come  on  from  de  field  an'  hitched  up  de 
kerridge.  I  seed  him  drivin'  off  an'  hollered  to  him, 
but  he  shook  his  head  and  kept  right  on,  like  sumfin 
was  arter  him.  Dey  all  been  gone  er  long  time,  an' 
I  ain't  seen  no  more  of  'em  yit.  I  is  shore  glad  you's 
come,  I  felt  dat  lonesome,  an'  dat  Iphogenia  down 
ter  de  spring,  churnin'  or  er  sleep,  one  or  de 
t'other,"  Dicey  ended,  nervously  irritable. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

Drifting    Away — Donald's    Quest — The    Last 

Meeting. 

"How  a  heart's  deep  passion  and  bitter  woe 
Gave  echo  in  sobs  to  the  words  she  said; 

How  a  soul's  deep  pain  and  a  heart's  wild  want, 
Went  floating  away  where  the  angels  sing; 

Where  fancy  finds  in  the  secret  haunts 
Of  Longing,  a  hope  that  is  like  a  wing." 

When  she  had  learned  all  that  Dicey  knew,  Ruth 
repaired  to  her  room  and  laid  aside  the  hat  she  had 
worn  in  the  woods ;  then,  restlessly,  and  with  un- 
accustomed suspense,  she  sought  the  most  convenient 
position  on  the  veranda  to  scan  the  road  leading  to 
the  great  gate  shutting  out  the  eastern  forest. 


220  A     DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS 

In  a  short  space  of  time  she  espied  a  buggy  that 
descended  the  slope  toward  the  bridge  and  in  a  very 
few  moments  reascended  to  pass  through  the  gate 
into  the  forest. 

A  vague  fear  disturbed  her  mind,  a  presage  of 
calamity  pressed  heavily  upon  her  spirits.  She  re- 
called the  strange  dream  from  which  she  had  awak- 
ened that  morning;  it  had  meant  this,  then,  the 
nervous  apprehension  from  which  she  could  think  of 
no  refuge. 

Dicey  fetched  her  a  glass  of  milk  and  lamented 
the  spoiling  dinner.  "And  I  had  jest  done  my 
purtiest  in  gittin'  it  for  you  an'  Mars  Donald !"  she 
complained.  "It  shore  seems  er  long  time  since  you 
an'  him  were  here  tergether,  honey !" 

Ruth  smiled  absently  and  sipped  her  milk.  "What 
can  have  happened,  do  you  suppose.  Dicey?"  she 
queried,  just  to  voice  some  of  the  uneasiness  she 
felt  so  poignantly  yet  vaguely. 

"Thank  goodness,  dar  comes  Miss  Jean,  an'  she 
shore  can  tell  us !"  Dicey  exclaimed. 

As  Jean  entered  the  gate  and  advanced  to  the 
veranda,  upon  Mary's  arm,  her  pallor  alarmed  Ruth. 
She  ran  down  the  steps  and  helped  her  to  a  seat 
on  the  veranda. 

"It  w^as  Edwin,  bairnie !  Our  bonnie  Edwin ! 
Ezeke  found  him  as  he  returned  from  the  mill.  Poor 
Edwin !  I  think  he  intended  coming  here  to  see  me 
about  that  timber.  I  had  decided  to  give  it  to  him, 
bairnie !  We  were  just  in  time  to  see  him  die.  He 
was  lying  some  distance  from  his  buggy,  prone  upon 
the  pine  needles,  the  hot  sun  in  his  eyes,  but  he  was 
unconscious  and  soon  ceased  to  suffer.     A  decayed 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  221 

limb  had  fallen  from  a  great  height  and  struck  him 
on  the  temple.  The  firm  heart  of  the  decayed  branch 
was  encased  in  sodden,  dead  fibre.  The  rain  last 
night  had  filled  every  pore  of  its  spungy  surface,  and 
it  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  from  a  clear  sky  and  as 
fatally.    But  it  was  to  be  so ; 

'Not  a  sparrow  falleth. 

But  his  God  doth  know. 
Just  as  when  His  mandate 

Lays  a  monarch  low,'  " 

she  paused  to  quote,  tenderly  and  resignedly.  "I 
closed  his  eyes,  bairnie !"  she  resumed  when  the 
group  about  her  stood  in  awed  silence  and  waited 
for  her  to  proceed.  'T  closed  his  dear,  gentle  eyes ! 
There  was  something  so  pitiful  in  their  last  glimpse 
of  the  blue  sky,  the  bright  sunshine,  but  with  the  last 
sigh  from  his  lips  a  smile  seemed  to  spread  over  his 
countenance  wdiich  had  been  so  disfigured  with 
suffering.  I  was  praying,  and  Donald  held  him  in 
his  arms,  and — and — we  suffered  also,"  she  sobbed 
hysterically,  her  strength  broken  by  the  shock  of  the 
scene  she  had  so  recently  experienced. 

"Colin  Gilmour  had  just  left  him ;  they  had  been 
in  the  woods  together.  Colin  is  with  him  now,  and 
Donald  and  Sandy.  Neil  has  gone  to  the  camp  and 
Tony  to  Hector  Dalrymple's,  and  they  are  bringing 
him  here.  I  came  on  to  prepare  for  his  coming,  so 
that  he  might  be  cared  for  in  a  humane  manner. 
They  are  waiting  for  Henry  Stephenson.  We  sent 
for  him  before  he  died ;  Henry  is  the  only  one  of  his 
people  in  this  country  at  present;  his  wife  is  away 


222  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

with  his  or  her  people.    I  am  glad  to  do  all  T  can  for 

the  poor  fellow !  He  was  always  so  gentle,  so  defer- 
ential and  kind."  Jean  concluded  her  eulogy  with  a 
deep  sigh  of  compassionate  sympathy  for  the  young 
life  so  suddenly  ended. 

Ruth  still  spoke  no  word;  she  hardly  compre- 
hended Jean's  sobbing  utterances,  yet  she  was  pale, 
whiter  than  her  white  dress.  She  felt  that  she,  too, 
was  dying,  at  intervals,  and  that  the  earth  was  fold- 
ing in  with  ponderous  might  to  crush  her,  when,  lift- 
ing her  glance  to  the  road  beyond  the  bridge,  she 
discovered  the  carriage  descending  it  slowly,  a  man 
walking  by  either  side,  the  horses  guided  carefully, 
the  curtains  drawn,  shielding  from  the  mid-day  sun 
the  pitiable  burden.  Then  realization  came  upon 
her  sharply;  a  murderous  pain  was  stabbing  her 
heart  as  she  groped  her  way  into  the  house,  unnoted 
by  Jean,  who  was  endeavoring  to  check  her  futile 
tears  and  regain  composure.  The  walls  of  the  hall 
appeared  to  be  closing  in  upon  her  so  smotheringly, 
she  sought  the  air  by  passing  through  the  open  win- 
dow of  her  bedroom,  and  from  there  to  the  rear 
lawn,  where  she  walked  aimlessly  until  the  horror 
of  the  moment  drove  her  into  the  circling  paths 
threading  turf  and  shrubbery;  and  finally,  as  the 
carriage  forced  its  tedious  way  down  the  cherry  lane 
to  the  gate,  she  fled  incontinently  down  the  way  to 
the  spring  and  dairy,  bare  of  head,  wild-eyed,  and 
wholly  heedless. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  the  many  sad  offices 
for  the  dead  had  been  accomplished,  and  upon  a 
white  bier  in  the  centre  of  the  parlor,  reposed  the 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     TPIE     HIGHLANDERS  223 

rigid  form  of  Edwin  Phillips,  neatly  composed  in 
the  last,  dreamless  sleep  of  mortality. 

White-starred  jasmine,  with  its  graceful  foliage, 
outlined  the  prostrate  figure,  beneath  its  white 
drapery ;  and  a  sheaf  of  white  lilies  lay  beside  the 
pillow  pressed  by  the  quiet  head.  Palms  stood  as 
sentinels  guarding  sacred  slumber,  and  ferns  were 
massed  as  a  base  for  a  formal  catafalque.  The  lawn 
and  rose-garden  had  been  levied  upon,  recklessly, 
and  bowls  and  vases  overflowed  with  fragrant- 
hearted  roses,  delicate  smilax  and  maiden-hair 
ferns ;  and  abroad  the  strong,  fervid  light  of  the 
summer  day  mocked  the  gloom  brooding  the  minds 
of  those  present. 

Jean  had  done  all  that  could  be  achieved  in  honor- 
ing the  dead  and  dispelling  the  gloom  of  his  un- 
timely death.  The  sorrow  of  her  manifold  bereave- 
ments evoked  a  pitying  tenderness,  which  she 
lavished  upon  the  friend  who  had  died  away  from 
home  and  dear  ones.  But  at  last  even  her  exacting 
sympathy  could  command  no  more  from  her  willing 
hands,  and  thoroughly  exhausted,  she  had  retired 
and  rested  for  awhile  to  recruit  her  strength. 

The  remoteness  of  the  locality  retarded  prepara- 
tions which  were  necessary  to  shipping  the  body. 
Messengers  had  been  sent  to  the  distant  station  with 
telegrams  and  to  secure  a  casket,  but  not  until  the 
hours  of  early  morning  could  they  start  on  the  sad 
journey  to  catch  the  first  train  eastward. 

Jennie  Stevenson  had  never  returned  to  live  at  the 
camp ;  but  all  the  men  associated  with  him  in  his 
work  at  the  mill  had  come  to  Kissic-Dale,  to  be  with 
him  once  more  ere  he  was  taken  away  finally;  and 


224  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

a  few  Scotch  neighbors  of  that  vicinity  had  come 
also  to  help  or  extend  sympathy  by  sitting,  defer- 
entially, in  solemn  silence,  throughout  the  long  vigil. 
Mary  Graham,  aided  by  all  the  household,  was  hos- 
pitably busy,  and  they  each  believed  Ruth  to  be  rest- 
ing in  her  room,  into  which  they  would  not  intrude, 
when  there  was  no  response  to  their  repeated  efforts 
for  admittance.  Jean  finally  became  anxious,  turned 
the  bolt  and  stood  amazed,  for  the  room  was  empty 
of  the  presence  she  sought.  The  contents  of  Ruth's 
trunks  were  piled  upon  the  bed  and  chairs,  as  she 
had  left  things  when  summoned  to  meet  Donald  but 
a  moment  before  the  startling  message  had  called 
them  to  the  forest.  She  sought  Iphogenia,  who 
positively  asserted  that  she  had  seen  Ruth  running 
by  the  dairy,  just  as  she  was  finishing  her  churning. 
"Nobody  ain't  axed  me  or  I  would  er  told  'em  so," 
she  declared,  innocently.  Jean,  disturbed  and  re- 
morseful, found  Donald  on  the  veranda  by  the  par- 
lor window,  and  informed  him  of  Ruth's  long  and 
unaccountable  absence. 

"I  know  she  must  be  alone  somewhere,  and  that 
she  has  an  absolute  horror  of  death  to  any  object. 
I  have  known  her  to  grieve  over  the  wilting  of  a 
flower  in  her  childhood,  but  I  should  think  she  would 
prefer  being  in  the  house  and  with  company.  Once 
I  was  afraid  she  would  be  mentally  unbalanced, 
grieving  for  a  baby  of  Ouenna's,  who  died  when  she 
was  very  young  and  we  unwisely  took  her  to  view  it. 
We  brought  her  away  shrieking  and  beseeching  that 
someone  would  warm  the  chill  body  and  blow  breath 
into  the  still  lungs ;  and  for  so  long  a  time  she  wor- 
ried about  it,  I  have  never  let  her  approach  a  dead 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  225 

person  since.  But  to-day  I  was  so  shocked  and  so  in 
sympathy  with  poor  Edwin,  I  have  neglected  her, 
and  I  do  not  know  where  she  is  nor  how  she  is 
bearing  the  sad  conditions  here,"  she  said  to  him, 
evincing  a  remorseful  suspense. 

"I  will  go  down  that  way  and  look  for  her," 
Donald  proffered  readily,  and  immediately  started 
on  the  quest,  much  to  Jean's  relief  and  comfort. 

Indeed,  Donald  was  glad  to  go  in  search  of  Ruth, 
whom  he  had  not  yet  seen.  The  day,  which  had 
dawned  so  bright  and  held  such  promise,  had  proven 
so  far  very  disappointing,  beyond  the  sad  features 
of  an  untimely  death.  He  had  waited  so  long,  so 
hungrily,  for  a  glimpse  of  Ruth ;  and  he  did  not  find 
her  at  the  spring.  Hopefully,  he  pursued  his  way 
down  the  path  which  led  to  Loch  Lily. 

There  he  found  her,  seated  on  Jean's  boulder,  and 
leaning  listlessly  against  the  trunk  of  the  old  birch 
tree.  Her  attitude  was  so  dejected,  so  forlornly  list- 
less, he  approached  her  diffidently,  with  an  acute 
sense  of  intrusion.  He  called  her  name,  tentatively, 
and  started  violently,  when  she  turned  and  lifted 
dozed,  uncomprehending  eyes  and  gazed  upon  him, 
stolidly,  indifferently.  She  evinced  no  surprise  or 
recognition ;  her  vision  seemed  incapable  of  em- 
bracing him  as  an  object  apart  from  the  ordinary 
scene  of  water,  woods  and  green,  deepening 
shadows. 

"Won't  you  speak  to  me,  Ruth?"  he  appealed, 
wistfully.  "It  is  I,  Donald."  He  raised  his  voice 
and  spoke  in  a  tone  one  uses  to  awaken  a  sleeper. 
It  had  dismayed  him  beyond  measure  that  she  had 


226  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

no  greeting  for  him,  staring  at  him  blankly,  with  her 
clouded  eyes. 

The  changing  length  of  two  long  years  was  com-  i 

pressed  into  the  moment  of  that  unforeseen  meeting.  r 

This  Ruth,  whom  he  confronted,  appeared  so  dif- 
ferent from  the  Ruth  he  had  parted  with  in  her 
springtime  beauty,  silhouetted  against  a  background 
of  summer  roses.     He  had,  that  afternoon,  been  ; 

leisurely  studying  her  portrait  adorning  the  walls  of 
the  parlor,  where  they  had  been  keeping  vigil,  crowd-  j 

ing  his  thoughts  with  memories  of  her  and  of  the 
days  when  he  had  been  with  her  so  constantly ;  and 
the  portrait  was  a  deification  of  the  sweet  recollec- 
tions which  had  been  the  solace  of  the  years  since  he 
had  been  parted  from  her.  She  had  lifted  the  eyes 
of  a  heart-broken  woman. 

There  was  a  green  stain  upon  her  colorless  cheek 
and  similar  ones  upon  her  hands  and  dress.  The 
willowy  slenderness  of  her  girlhood  had  been  dis- 
placed by  a  form  of  mature  proportions ;  a  rounded, 
stately  figure,  with  a  head  queenly  poised,  although 
no  art  could  have  then  influenced  her  posture. 

She  caught  her  breath  in  quivering  sighs  and  the 
lids  drooped  weightily  to  veil  her  bedimmed  eyes. 
Distraught  with  a  weird  anxiety,  he  caught  her  hand 
to  induce  her  to  arise,  that  he  might  take  her  away 
from  the  morbid  retreat  as  quickly  as  possible.  Her 
hand  lay  in  his  inert  and  cold,  and  in  the  twilight 
shadows  of  the  wooded  hills  her  face  shone  pale 
and  ghastly.  His  healthy  mind  revolted  and  re- 
sented the  tomb-like  atmosphere  of  the  locality  and 
her  ghostly  appearance.  The  opalescent  water  lay 
in  a  lifeless  calm,  an  occasional  dimple  in  its  surface 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  227 

accentuated  its  suggestive  repose ;  the  bloomless  lily- 
pads  intensified  its  colorless  composure  and  the 
notes  of  the  wood-birds  sounded  plaintively  in  the 
dim  solitude,  as  the  languid  breeze  swept  the  forest 
foliage  with  doleful  sighings,  and  a  damp,  moist 
odor  ladened  its  perfunctory  breathings  as  the  day 
sank  into  approaching  eventide. 

He  was  athletic,  broad-shouldered,  the  embodi- 
ment of  stalwart,  normal  manhood,  yet  his  mind  ex- 
perienced a  creepy  sensation  as  the  touch  of  her  icy 
fingers  came  as  a  reminiscence  of  the  death  in  the 
forenoon,  when  he  had  held  the  livid,  chilling  hand 
of  Edwin  Phillips. 

His  personality  was  a  pleasing  combination  of 
mental  and  physical  strength,  although  he  was  as 
blonde  and  as  fair  as  a  woman  of  that  type,  with 
yellow  lashes  fringing  pellucid  gray  eyes,  with  a 
crystal  luminosity;  full,  sensitive  lips,  close  cropped, 
fair  hair,  the  stamp  of  a  superior  intelligence  im- 
pressed upon  every  feature  of  his  countenance,  robed 
in  the  pure  white  pallor  of  an  overworked  student ;  a 
personality  mirroring  purity  of  life  and  exalted 
ambition. 

She  resisted  his  attempt  to  impel  her  away.  "It 
is  so  quiet  here,"  she  whispered,  with  a  dry  hoarse- 
ness of  voice. 

He  sat  down  beside  her,  wounded  and  perplexed, 
yet  solicitously  compassionate. 

"How  long  have  you  been  here,  Ruth?"  he  ques- 
tioned in  the  lifted  tone  of  voice  he  used  in  ad- 
dressing her. 

"Oh,  a  long  time,  surely !"  she  replied  with  a  list- 
less despondency. 


228  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

"But  why  here  at  all?"  he  scolded.  "The  place  is 
dreary  and  too  lonely  for  you  to  be  here  alone. 
There  may  be  serpents  about,  if  no  worse  danger !" 

"There  are  serpents  here,"  she  answered,  absently, 
her  eyes  upon  the  water.  "I  have  seen  them, 
several." 

"And  you  were  not  afraid?"  he  cried,  incredu- 
lously. 

"No;  I  was  not  afraid.  One  passed  near  my  feet, 
but  it  did  not  try  to  hurt  me." 

"And  you  have  been  here  a  long  time?"  he  re- 
peated, as  he  scrutinized  her  apprehensively. 

"Yes,  surely  a  long  time!"  she  affirmed,  lifelessly; 
"almost  ages,  it  seems." 

He  was  silenced  by  sheer  amazement,  her  words, 
her  manner  puzzled  him,  depressingly.  Ruth  had 
spoken  mechanically,  yet  sincerely.  She  was  so 
stunned,  so  astray  in  a  realm  of  overwhelming  hor- 
ror, which  precluded  normal  thought  or  rational 
ideas,  realization  of  conditions,  of  time  and  circum- 
stances, were  translated  for  the  moment  to  an  abnor- 
mal plane  of  chaos  and  violence.  She  did  not  recall 
the  hour  when  the  sun  ruled  high  above  the  trees 
and  she  had  stood  in  the  little  dell,  panting,  breath- 
less. 

Since  then  she  had  lain  a  long  time  upon  the 
ground,  spent  with  a  wailing,  helpless  agony  that 
held  no  affinity  with  weeping;  when  Fate  croaked 
as  a  demon  raven  the  hopeless  refrain  of  "Never- 
more," and  hissed  into  her  shrinking  consciousness 
the  awful  thing  present  at  the  house,  the  conditions 
which  had  driven  her  into  exile. 

Silently,  analytically,  Donald  was  searching  for 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  229 

logical  cause  for  her  illogical  behavior.  He  reviewed 
what  Jean  had  related  of  her  temperamental  horror 
of  death.  He  reflected  how  it  was  to  return  to  child- 
hood scenes  after  a  long  absence,  the  un familiarity, 
the  sense  of  incongruity  with  things  once  familiar 
and  personal  to  every-day  life;  and  he  remembered 
the  fatiguing  journey  with  physical  strength  im- 
paired by  protracted  study,  the  consequent  excitable 
brain  and  task-worn  mind.  A  compassionate  tender- 
ness swelled  his  heart,  always  tender,  ever  constant, 
in  his  secret  devotion,  in  that  he  knew  her  worth  and 
guilelessness. 

"You  must  come  with  me,  Ruth,"  he  commanded, 
peremptorily,  but  kindly. 

She  arose  to  her  feet  obediently;  then  she  stag- 
gered, dizzily,  and  gave  a  slight  cry  of  pain.  She 
was  standing,  totteringly,  on  the  brink  of  the  deep 
pool ;  her  little  boat  lay  upon  its  bosom,  the  birch  tree 
overshadowed  it  to  intensify  the  gloom  of  its  sinister 
depths. 

He  rescued  her  from  the  perilous  position  and 
forcibly  led  her  away  from  the  spot.  She  did  not 
resist,  but  leaned  heavily  upon  his  arm  as  he  hurried 
her  up  the  way  to  the  turnstile.  She  was  too  dazed 
and  exhausted  to  converse,  and  he  was  silenced  by 
the  paralyzing  conjecture  of  what  might  have  hap- 
pened. 

_  As  they  emerged  from  the  woods  they  were  con- 
fronted by  an  unwonted  aerial  brightness.  The  sun 
had  entered  vaporous  banks  at  the  verge  of  the 
horizon,  tingeing  them  with  a  luminous,  golden 
amber ;  and  a  golden  diffusion  bathed  the  entire  at- 


230  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

mosphere  and  gilded  every  object  with  its  radiant 
enameling  of  liquid  light. 

She  released  his  arm  and  leaned  upon  the  turn- 
stile. She  hardly  breathed  as  her  glance  swept  from 
the  flaming  horizon  to  the  glowing  zenith,  as  if 
pleading  for  strength  and  mercy,  and  a  wistful  light 
dawned  in  the  violet  depths  of  her  reawakening 
eyes.  He  lounged  on  another  arm  and  watched  her, 
unobservant  of  sky  or  environment,  noting  the 
changes  wrought  in  her  the  years  since  they  had 
parted.  With  a  quivering  intake  of  breath,  her 
glance  fell,  still  seekingly,  and  with  startled  ex- 
ploration. 

She  had  forgotten  Donald,  or  rather,  had  not,  as 
yet,  realized  his  presence.  He  moved  uneasily,  for 
her  expression  and  behavior  reminded  him  of  the 
manner  of  some  of  his  sleep-walking  mates  in  col- 
lege days.  She  was  mentally  stunned  and  physically 
ill,  he  was  convinced.  Those  gloomy  woods  and 
long  hours  alone,  in  her  state  of  mind  and  body,  had 
proven  disastrous. 

With  impulsive  sympathy,  he  offered  his  arm  and 
impelled  her  to  the  spring,  where  he  seated  her,  and 
then  fetched  a  gourd  of  water  from  the  sparkling 
pool,  and  compelled  her  to  quench  a  burning  thirst 
she  had  not  been  sensible  of  until  the  cool  liquid 
trickled  over  her  dry  throat. 

Seeing  her  abstinence  in  regard  to  water,  he  re- 
called that  she  must  not  have  had  any  dinner ;  and 
the  inspiration  sent  him  to  the  dairy,  to  return  with 
a  brimming  cup  of  cream.  "Drink  this,  Ruth,  do," 
he  insisted  so  gently,  she  obeyed  and  drank  it  readily. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  231 

He  nodded  approval  and  sought  farther  to  reassure 
her. 

"Ruth,"  he  said,  seating  himself  beside  her  and 
speaking  diplomatically,  "I  am  sorry  to  wound  your 
vanity,  but  truth  and  a  proper  regard  for  appear- 
ances compels  me  to  ask  you  to  let  me  wash  your 
face  and  hands  before  we  leave  here.  You  might 
meet  some  of  the  people  at  the  house.  There  are 
several  there,  and " 

"I  am  not  going  up  there !"  she  cried,  gaspingly. 
"Oh,  no ;  I  cannot  return  there  now !" 

"But  you  must,  you  know,"  Donald  insisted,  mas- 
terfully. "You  cannot  stay  in  the  woods  alone;  it 
was  very  imprudent  your  doing  so,  at  any  time," 

"You  can  leave  me  here.  Nothing  will  harm  me, 
and  to-night  I  will  find  shelter  in  the  dairy,"  she  con- 
tended, feverishly. 

"Ruth,  poor  child,"  he  insisted  commiseratingly, 
"I  know  death  in  any  form  is  terrifying  and  inspires 
us  with  a  dread  awe,  indescribable ;  and  I  know  you 
knew  Phillips  when  we  were  all  here  that  happy 
springtime,  two  years  agone  now.  I  am  grieved  and 
shaken,  too,  for  I  liked  him  very  much,  found  him 
no  end  of  a  good  fellow.  I  visited  him  when  I  came 
here  last  summer  after  you  were  gone,  and  met  his 
wife  and  sister,  who  seemed  very  devoted  to  him, 
indeed.  I  thought  of  them  this  morning,  and  could 
not  repress  a  rebellious  feeling  that  such  things  could 
be,  but  they  must  bow  to  the  inevitable,  and  so  must 
we.  I  feel  no  repulsion  to  his  lifeless  body,  rather  a 
yearning  pity,  a  sweet  satisfaction  in  being  near  him 
and  serving  him.     He  was  a  part  of  my  blissful 


232  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

memory  of  this  place,  those  peaceful  spring  days, 
when  life  was  so  real  and  restful. 

"Have  you  forgotten  them,  Ruth,  and  that  he 
shared  our  pleasures  ?  Oh,  surely  not !  He  had  not, 
I  am  sure,  for  there  was  a  photo  of  you  in  his  inner- 
most breast  pocket,  folded  in  with  a  faded,  crimson 
rosebud,  the  only  souvenir  I  found  when  we  were 
securing  the  contents  of  his  pockets,  that  they  might 
be  sent  to  his  people.  There  is  nothing  repulsive 
about  him  now ;  indeed,  he  is  a  pleasing  object,  with 
a  smile  frozen  upon  his  lips.  He  is  dressed  in  his 
wedding  suit  and  surrounded  by  friends  and 
flowers ;  there  is  nothing  to  shock  one  or  indicate 
violence  but  the  purple  wound  on  his  temple.  There 
are  no  distressing  scenes  to  witness,  for  none  of  his 
own  people  are  here;  just  the  men  from  the  camp 
and  a  few  of  your  neighbors.  Shall  we  go  now, 
Ruth?  Your  aunt  is  very  anxious  about  you,"  he 
concluded,  leaning  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  averted 
face.  Her  hands  were  clasped,  closely ;  her  features 
bore  the  impress  of  an  agonized  endurance.  He  was 
instantly  contrite  and  conciliating. 

"Had  you  rather  stay  here,  Ruth  ?  It  is  true  the 
weather  is  warm  and  we  can  send  someone  down  to 
keep  you  company,"  he  assured  her,  sympathy  ruling 
his  heart  to  the  exclusion  of  self.  He  waited  anx- 
iously a  long  while  before  she  spoke,  or  rather  whis- 
pered faintly,  her  surrender. 

"I  will  go  with  you,  if  I  may  go  directly  to  my 
room  and  do  not  have  to  meet  anyone  whatever, 
not  even  Aunt  Jean." 

"But  really,  Ruth,  I  must  insist  that  you  wash 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  233 

your  face,"  he  stammered,  blushing  furiously  as  her 
questioning  eyes  sought  his. 

"Well,"  she  acquiesced,  docilely,  but  glanced 
around,  helplessly.  He  hastened  to  the  dairy,  found 
a  towel,  which  he  saturated  in  the  trench,  and  came 
back  to  her  smiling  with  victory.  Tenderly,  if 
clumsily,  he  bathed  her  face  and  hands  and  smoothed 
her  rumpled  hair  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  She 
caught  the  towel  from  his  hand  when  he  had  finished 
and  wound  it  about  her  throbbing  temples  for  the 
grateful  relief  it  afforded. 

When  he  came  back  to  her  after  hanging  the  towel 
on  the  limb  of  a  maple,  she  greeted  him  with  a  wan 
smile  of  recognition,  as  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"You  are  very  kind,  Donald,  if  it  is  really  Donald. 
I  had  not  realized  it  until  just  now.  I  am  very  glad 
to  see  you ;  very  glad,  Donald."  When  he  had 
clasped  her  hand,  she  drew  him  to  a  seat  beside  her. 

"Take  care  of  me,  please.  I  do  not  believe  I  am 
quite  well,  and  I  feel  so  afraid.  I  feel  so  strangely 
alone,  so  lonely,  oh,  so  lonely !"  she  soliloquized,  ad- 
dressing her  own  sensations  rather  than  him. 

"Well,  let  us  go  to  the  house,  where  we  will  find 
company.  It  is  lonely  down  here,"  he  affirmed, 
arising  and  helping  her  to  her  feet ;  then  he  drew  her 
away  and  hurried  up  the  path,  lest  she  should  change 
her  mind  and  insist  upon  returning  to  the  spring. 
Silently,  they  entered  the  lawn  and  ascended  to  the 
veranda;  she  would  not  enter  the  sitting-room,  for 
she  believed  dimly  that  the  horror  she  so  dreaded 
was  staged  there. 

"To  my  own  room,"  she  whispered  imperatively, 
with  white  lips  and  eyes  dark  and  tragical.     He 


234  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

bowed  a  silent  assent  and  led  the  way,  turning  into 
the  wide-open  doors  of  the  hall. 

At  the  parlor  door  she  paused,  arrested  by  the 
scene  within  the  room,  which  came  as  a  complete 
surprise  to  her.  The  white  draped  bier,  flower- 
crowned,  met  her  vision  as  an  uplifting  revelation ; 
the  fragrance  of  the  roses  saluted  her ;  the  beautiful, 
pervasive  sunset  light  left  not  one  shadow  in  the 
large  room,  but  held  in  radiant  relief  every  object 
and  detail,  where  the  watchers  sat  in  silent  and 
reverent  vigil. 

She  gazed  wistfully,  so  intensely,  she  scarcely 
breathed ;  and  Donald,  watching  her  apprehensively, 
beheld  a  swift  transformation  of  her  expression  as 
the  beauty  of  her  innate  spirituality  irradiated  her 
features.  For  her,  in  reality,  the  moment  was  thrill- 
ing, indeed,  as  her  heart  throbbed  sensitively  to  the 
holy  influence  which  flows  earthward  when  the  gates 
of  eternity  are  lifted  for  the  entrance  of  an  immortal 
spirit. 

From  the  eastern  wall  beyond  his  feet,  a  pictured 
Ruth,  smiling,  rose-lipped,  pensive-eyed,  gazed 
serenely  upon  the  bier  ;  in  the  doorway  another  Ruth, 
unto  whom  he  had  been,  dually,  her  supreme  bliss 
and  sorrow,  a  very  Hagar  of  banishment  and  be- 
reavement, beheld  the  end  of  the  man  who  had  so 
persistently  wooed  and  then  betrayed  her  heart. 

A  death-like  stillness  reigned  among  the  watchers, 
who  felt  an  indefinable  awe  of  the  moment  of  Ruth, 
so  tragically  still  in  her  pose  in  the  doorway. 

Donald  stood  sentinelly  by  her  side,  waiting 
patiently  for  her  own  impulse  to  guide  her.  He,  too, 
appreciated  the  celestial  beauty  of  the  scene  bathed 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  235 

in  the  splendor  of  the  permeating,  golden-tinged 
sunset  radiance.  But  not  for  one  moment  could  he 
forget  the  lifeless  form  of  the  man  who  had  suffered 
death  so  violently  and  so  suddenly.  The  real  material 
meaning  of  the  accident  still  held  its  brutal  value  in 
his  mind  as  Ruth  swayed  a  step  backward  and  met 
his  alert  expression  with  a  smile,  in  which  were 
blended  physical  fear  and  exaltation  of  spirit. 

"Ruth  !  Ruth  !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  low  tone,  warn- 
ing her. 

She  drew  herself  erect,  smiled  again,  then  turned 
away  and  sought  her  room,  unaided.  There,  she 
desperately  courted  repose,  and  finally  sank  into  a 
half-conscious  slumber  under  the  ministrations  of 
Mary,  who  bathed  her  hands  and  temples  with  laven- 
der and  brushed  her  hair  soothingly. 

It  was  nearing  the  midnight  hour  when  she  was 
awakened  by  one  of  Jean's  repeated  visits  to  her 
bedside,  and  she  sent  a  message  to  Donald,  begging 
him  to  come  to  her  on  the  rear  veranda ;  then  she 
arose,  bathed  her  wrists  and  face  in  cool  water, 
brushed  her  hair,  letting  it  flow  restfully  over  her 
shoulders,  and  donned  one  of  her  elaborate  tea 
gowns,  thus  striving  for  a  calm  and  natural  manner 
as  she  went  forth  to  meet  Donald.  When  he  came 
to  her,  as  she  sat  in  a  secluded  corner  bowered  with 
the  dense  pendant  foliage  of  honeysuckle,  she  ex- 
tended her  hand  as  if  he  had  just  arrived  at  Kissic- 
Dale. 

"It  is  so  nice  to  have  you  with  us  again,  Donald, 
here  at  the  dear  home  where  I  am  almost  as  much  of 
a  stranger  as  you  are,"   she  said,  with  a  sincere 


236  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

courtesy  that  removed  some  of  the  constraint  he  had 
felt  in  her  presence. 

"You  sent  for  me,  Ruth?"  he  interrogated,  when 
releasing  her  hand.  He  leaned  on  a  railing  of  the 
banister  near  where  she  sat  in  a  shadow  so  dense  he 
could  not  read  her  expression.  He  was  very  weary. 
It  seemed  a  long  time  since  he  had  driven  down  the 
elm  avenue,  the  morning  sunlight  not  more  vivant 
than  the  sweet  anticipations  filling  his  heart  and 
elating  his  mind.  The  day  had  proven  very  disap- 
pointing, Ruth  even  more  so,  and  his  healthy  optim- 
ism was  blighted  by  physical  exhaustion. 

"I  wished  to  thank  you,  Donald,  for  your  kindness 
to  me  this  afternoon,  when  I  was  really  ill.  Do  you 
not  believe  it?"  she  responded,  bravely,  as  her 
evanescent  strength  was  ebbing  swiftly,  she  knew 
with  dismay  and  discouragement. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  were  ill,  all  right.  I  did  not  doubt 
it,"  he  answered  readily,  but  with  covert  reservation. 
"What  did  you  want  of  me?"  he  demanded  directly. 

She  gathered  all  her  strength,  and  with  supreme 
effort  replied  :  "I  wish  you  to  do  me  a  great  favor." 

"Well,"  he  returned,  tersely. 

"You  said — I  think — that  you  found  a  photo  of 
mine  in  his — in  the  dead  man's  pocket.  Would  you 
mind  giving  it  back  to  him,  that  it  may  be  buried 
with  him?  Will  you,  Donald?"  she  beseeched,  in  a 
tense,  shrill,  whispering  voice. 

Donald  moved  to  an  erect  posture  and  thrust  his 
hands  into  his  pockets,  nervously. 

"Will  you,  Donald  ?"  she  repeated. 

"Certainly,  since  you  request  it.  I  was  loth  to 
send  it  to  his  people.     "When  they  arrive  with  the 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  237 

casket  and  are  removing  him  to  it,  I  will  replace  the 
photo  as  I  found  it;  but  first  tell  me,  Ruth,  why  he 
was  carrying  it?"  he  demanded,  with  cold  insistence. 

"Aunt  Jean  gave  it  to  him,  not  I,  but  in  that  he 
has  treasured  it,  which  surprises  me,  really,  and — 
and — because  of  something  he  said  of  it,  I  beg  you 
to  let  him  keep  it,"  she  faltered,  as  her  voice  broke 
with  a  harsh  sobbing  she  could  not  suppress.  "It  is 
an  atonement  that  may  comfort  me  in  the  future. 
Donald." 

Donald  was  silent  so  long,  she  drooped  her  head 
in  a  helpless,  tearless  agony,  believing  he  would 
refuse  her  request.  He  was  reflecting  that  her 
tender  conscience  was  reproaching  her  for  some 
fancied  hurt  she  had  given  Edwin  in  that  past  in 
which  he  had  certainly  admired  her.  So  he  sat  down 
and  essayed  consolation. 

"Poor  child,  poor  little  Ruth,"  he  said  tenderly, 
caressingly.  His  reflections  had  given  him  an  ex- 
quisite relief  from  a  sharp  jealousy  of  the  poor  clay 
reposing  so  stark  and  silent  in  the  parlor.  Ruth's 
simple  words  had  evoked  a  rush  of  hopes  that  sang 
in  his  heart  as  a  chime  of  silver  bells ;  but  Ruth 
arose  precipitately. 

"I  must  go  to  my  room.  Donald ;  I  am  faint.  Ex- 
cuse me,  I  must  lie  down,"  she  explained  as  she  was 
hurrying  away.  He  sprang  to  her  assistance  and 
escorted  her  to  her  door.  As  the  light  of  the  rear 
hall  revealed  her  appearance,  he  saw  that  she  was 
very  pale,  but  never  had  her  beauty  so  appealed  to 
him  in  its  unworldly  seeming. 

Ruth  never  forgot  the  distress  that  was  embodied 
in  the  ensuing  hour,  in  which  she  wrestled  with  the 


238  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

direst  temptation  she  had  ever  experienced ;  for  the 
impulse  raged  in  her  heart  to  rush  into  the  parlor 
and  lay  her  lips  upon  those  cold  and  silent  ones,  in 
forgiveness  for  all  the  suffering  he  had  so  cruelly 
imposed  upon  her. 

She  was  restrained  by  the  brutal  knowledge  that 
he  had  deliberately  rendered  such  an  act  a  crime ;  it 
was  despicable  even  to  think  of  him  but  in  the  sacred 
role  of  another's  husband ;  but  the  desire  was  un- 
conquerable and  resurrected  forbidden  memories  to 
mingle  with  thoughts  of  the  harrowing  present  as 
time  dragged  its  suffering  moments  heavily  and  the 
stars  began  their  morning  courses  ;  the  dews  of  deep- 
ening night-tide  chilled  the  atmosphere,  and  the 
dank,  dark  depression  of  the  time  preceding  dawn 
accentuated  the  ghostly  silences. 

Finally  there  was  a  stir  of  footsteps  in  the  parlor, 
the  sounds  of  a  fresh  arrival.  She  leaned  through 
the  window  to  listen  to  subdued  voices  by  the  distant 
gate,  the  last  preparations  for  immediate  departure. 
Then  followed  the  tramp  of  a  moving  procession, 
wheels  grating,  measuredly,  horses  treading  steadily. 
She  stretched  forth  imploring  hands ;  her  eyes 
sought  the  star-spangled  sky  as  the  solemn  cavalcade 
passed  beyond  the  orchard. 

Drifting  away!  and  forever!  Never  again  would 
he  menace  her  life  with  joy  or  sorrow,  with  pleasure 
or  humiliation  ;  and  life  was  devoid  of  a  future.  No 
more  planning  to  avoid  him,  no  more  shrinking  or 
striving.  Kissic-Dale,  with  its  forest-crowned  hills 
girdling  it  as  a  billowy,  barricading  sea,  had  been 
her  cradle  and  her  tomb,  and  life  was  finished.  A 
deathly  chill  smote  her  heart,  a  strangling  sense  of 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  239 

supreme  loneliness  and  isolation  from  all  (Com- 
panionship.    Solitude  was  rendered  unendurable. 

Jean  and  Donald  re-entered  the  hall,  after  stand- 
ing reverently  upon  the  veranda  until  the  sad  cortege 
was  lost  in  distance.  They  found  Ruth  in  the  parlor 
doorway,  her  hands  clasped  and  depending,  her  eyes 
brooding  the  interior  with  despairing  wistfulness. 

The  undraped  bier  still  occupied  the  centre  of  the 
room  ;  its  white  drapery  had  been  thrown  negligently 
upon  chairs,  scattering  the  white-starred  jasmine 
and  wilting  white  roses  over  the  new,  richly-toned 
carpet.  The  young  Highlander,  his  recently  var- 
nished countenance  shining,  gazed  across  the  room 
cynically,  unsympathetically,  upon  his  fair  descend- 
ant, distraught  in  ruthless  excitement. 

The  profusion  of  roses  were  fainting,  perishing, 
the  aroma  of  their  expiring  fragrance  freighted  the 
breezes  sweeping  through  the  open  windows,  lifting 
their  lace  drapery  as  wafting  wings,  fanning  desola- 
tion. The  Daphne  portrait,  as  insensate  as  the 
Sphynx,  viewed  the  scene  with  smiling  pensiveness. 

Ruth's  white  dress  fell  in  sinuous  folds,  her  bright 
hair,  caught  in  the  breeze,  swept  her  breast  and 
shoulders ;  her  eyes  were  dull  and  opaque,  hei^  soul 
straining  to  the  hour  when  Israfeel  should  sound  the 
trump  of  resurrection.  Jean  folded  her  arms  about 
her,  pityingly,  protectively,  and  led  her  back  to  her 
room.  Donald  leaned  upon  the  stair  railing  in  a 
musing  reverie  until  Jean  returned,  and  said,  with  a 
sigh  of  weariness : 

"I  have  requested  Dicey  to  give  us  a  late  break- 


240  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

fast ;  so  let  us  retire  and  sleep  off  the  excitement  and 
fatigue  of  the  past  unhappy  day." 

He  bowed  and  ascended  to  his  room  and  to  an 
eloquent  pillow. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The     Seaside  —  A     Shell-Strewn     Beach  —  A 
Pavilion  Dance  at  the  Hotel. 

"Life  is  not  all  tears.    There  be  sunny  slopes 
And  sweetly  gliding  streams  and  smiling  plains, 

To  break  its  rugged  aspect,  though  the  hopes 
Of  youth  may  have  perished  in  the  sad  pains 

Of  disappointment,  fading,  as  it  were. 
Like  the  flowers  in  the  early  springtime." 

— Selected. 

One  afternoon,  late  in  August,  Ruth  was  seated 
upon  a  white  sand  dune,  or  rather,  she  had  burrowed 
into  the  porous  sand  and  planted  her  sunshade,  a 
lace-befrilled  white  silk  parasol,  just  above  her  posi- 
tion. The  sand  was  warm  and  dry,  a  pure  breeze 
from  the  mound  of  the  sea  beat  back  the  heat  from 
landward,  and  robed  the  sun-rays  of  much  of  their 
caloric  intensity. 

A  book  lay  unopened  upon  her  lap,  the  ocean 
loomed  blue  and  majestic  from  its  base  at  her  feet 
to  the  distant,  dim  horizon ;  and  in  the  rear,  back  of 
the  crest  of  the  sand  dune,  lay  the  placid  waters  of 
the    sound,    mirroring   the    turquoise    sky   and    en- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  241 

bosomed  fairy  islets  of  emerald  verdure  reflected  in 
the  crystal  sheen  of  the  quiet  water. 

She  had  stolen  away  from  Jean,  who,  as  usual, 
was  chatting  with  friends  in  the  pavilion  laved  by 
the  surf,  and  pursued  the  damp,  shell-strewn  margin 
of  the  beach  until  she  was  far  beyond  the  last 
stragglers  searching  for  shells  left  stranded  by  each 
recedence  of  the  never-resting  waves. 

She  found  it  a  precious  boon  to  be  quite  alone,  to 
be  in  uninterrupted  leisure,  that  she  might  relax 
absolutely  her  mind  and  features,  and  imbibe  impas- 
sively the  mood  of  the  throbbing  waters,  whose 
uttermost  brim  touched  the  azure  sky,  draped  with 
fleecy  clouds,  which  pufl:'ed  their  breathings  gently, 
caressingly,  over  the  sparkling  main. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  she  had  sought  that  broad 
seclusion  and  reclined  for  hours  together  inertly 
upon  the  sands ;  hours  that  she  had  spent  listlessly, 
hardly  dreaming  or  thinking,  regretting  or  desiring ; 
blank  periods  which  had  proven  a  panacea  to  her 
wrecked  nerves  and  saddened  mind.  At  times,  she 
had  judged  herself  molded  clay  from  which  her  soul 
had  departed,  for  fancy  was  slain,  imagination  wing- 
less, her  mind  torpid  with  the  dregs  of  lacerating 
emotions  which  had  sapped  her  strength  with  vam- 
pirish  onslaught.  Out  there  on  the  sands,  lulled  by 
the  mystic  influence  of  the  psalm  of  the  sea,  she  had 
often  reclined  in  the  lethargic  repose  of  physical  and 
mental  exhaustion. 

That  afternoon,  in  the  distance,  people  strolled  the 
beach  and  bobbed  like  disporting  ducks  in  the 
shallow  surf;  and  more  distantly,  a  crowd  surged 
about  the  rude  pavilion  v;here  she  supposed  Jean  to 


242  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

be.  More  than  once  she  had  arisen  partially  to  sur- 
vey the  Sound,  with  its  sparkling  bosom  gaily  be- 
decked with  emerald  gems  and  white  sailboats  skim- 
ming over  its  liquid  surface,  resembling  butterflies 
floating  on  a  summer's  zephyr ;  but  more  constantly 
she  gave  heed  to  inertia  and  the  monotone  of  the 
restless  sea,  and  she  knew,  without  emotion,  that  the 
sea's  sad  voice  meant  eternity  when  it  called  unto 
her  heart  so  imperatively. 

As  impassive  as  the  sea  in  its  unending  unrest,  she 
had  no  inspiration  to  send  forth  fancy  over  the 
radiant  deep  in  quest  of  "Fortuna  Isles."  Rather, 
she  abided  as  a  castaway  on  a  desolate  strand,  where 
birds  of  hope  never  sang  a  pean  nor  the  roses  of  love 
ever  bloomed  in  the  passionless  waste.  She  had  been 
thrust  from  the  gardens  of  the  Stoics  and  stranded 
in  an  emotionless  void,  where  she  evolved  a  new 
philosophy  wholly  personal  and  not,  to  her  knowl- 
edge, portrayed  in  books,  or  any  other  person's  ex- 
perience ;  she  realized  that  her  heart  was  as  a  with- 
ered bud  plucked  ere  its  petals  could  unfold  into  a 
perfect  blossom.  Oh,  the  regret  that  she  had  drank 
the  precious  wine  of  youth  to  its  dregs  so  prema- 
turely ;  the  outbreak  of  the  grapes  before  the  vint- 
age ;  that  so  soon  what  others  deemed  pleasure  was 
to  her  only  pain  and  a  Aveariness ;  nor  work,  wdiich 
meant  the  play  of  faculty,  "a  delight  like  that  which 
a  fish  feels  in  darting  through  the  water,"  or  "a  bird 
experiences  in  skimming  the  shores  of  atmosphere," 
or  "a  lamb  in  frisking  in  the  spring  sunshine,"  as 
yet  held  no  impelling  charm,  and  she  was  content 
to  spin  the  precious  moments  of  youth's  bright  span 
lolling  upon  the  sands ;  and  the  enchantment  of  sea 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  243 

and  sky,  and  vastness  of  spaces  could  not  steer  her 
thoughts  to  lands  not  laid  down  in  any  chart. 

She  had  never  explained  to  anyone  the  weird  suf- 
fering of  those  few  days  and  nights  she  had  re- 
mained at  home  in  the  middle  of  the  summer.  Her 
condition  had  thoroughly  alarmed  Jean,  and  Donald 
had  advised  the  seashore.  So  Jean  had  borne  her 
keen  disappointment  that  she  could  not  have  her 
bairnie  at  home  for  a  longer  period,  and  brought  her 
down  to  the  mountainous  blue  of  the  main,  with  its 
breeze-swept  beaches  of  silvery  sands,  and  loitered 
there,  while  her  fields  bore  thrifty  crops,  the  fruit 
ripened  in  her  orchards,  the  grapes  hung  golden  and 
purple  in  the  vineyards,  the  roses  bloomed  riotously 
in  her  garden,  living  in  a  hotel  barren  of  all  those 
luxuries  and  comforts;  her  recompense  the  illimit- 
able, wondrous  ocean,  with  its  healing  balm  for  her 
weak  and  nervous  charge. 

The  journey  had  been  brief,  but  to  Ruth  very 
fatiguing ;  the  trip  to  the  distant  station,  a  short 
flitting  by  rail  to  the  seaport  town,  then  another 
brief  ride  by  a  pleasure  route  to  the  bustling  little 
station,  where  the  journey  ended  and  the  sea  had 
met  them,  with  its  ponderous,  violet-tinged  mystery. 

At  first  Ruth  had  viewed  it  from  the  hotel  win- 
dows, her  strength  returning  imperceptibly  in  the 
clarity  of  the  freedom  of  ethereal  spaces  which  were 
realms  of  such  rare  purity,  the  phantasms  of  dreams, 
the  visions  of  a  shock-inflamed  brain,  had  been  exor- 
cised by  sweet,  refreshing  sleep,  and  the  tonicity  of 
the  intensely  oxygenized  air. 

Then  Jean,  her  fears  allayed,  entered  into  the 
social  life  of  the  gay  and  informal  resort;  and  when 


44  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

Ruth  had  so  far  improved  that  she  frequented  the 
seashore  and  lohed  in  the  hammocks  swung  from 
the  Hve  oaks  surrounding  the  hotel,  Donald  had  ar- 
riA'ed,  accompanied  by  his  mother,  and  she  and  Jean 
had  been  as  cheerful  as  if  they  were  enjoying  a  pro- 
tracted picnic,  mingling  unreservedly  with  the 
crowds  which  v/ent  every  afternoon,  by  way  of  the 
tiny  railway  over  to  the  beach,  for  a  revel  in  Nep- 
tune's briny  domain.  Ruth  also  undertook  the  jour- 
ney often;  and  in  the  evenings  there  had  invariably 
been  music  and  sometimes  dances  in  the  hotel  pavil- 
ion, and  games  and  social  intercourse  in  the  parlors. 

There  were  companies  of  the  State  militia  in  en- 
campment nearby,  and  brass-adorned  uniforms  en- 
livened the  occasions  with  formal  apparel.  Indeed, 
it  was  a  happy,  cheerful  w^orld  down  there  by  the 
sand-barred,  majestic  ocean;  and  Ruth  viewed  it 
uncritically,  but  with  the  aloofness  her  mind  evinced 
toward  the  starry  firmament  or  the  tossing,  restless 
billows,  always  flowing  from  or  ebbing  to  an  in- 
scrutable distance. 

When  the  afternoon  had  waned  until  the  declining 
sun  blazed  as  an  opal  in  its  reflection  far  out  at  sea, 
Ruth  became  aware  that  someone  was  directly  ap- 
proaching her  retreat,  and  she  reluctantly  withdrew 
her  glance  from  the  glittering  expanse  of  ocean, 
where  the  w^hite-capped  breakers  approached  in  end- 
less procession  to  melt  upon  the  beach,  an  intangible, 
doleful  moaning  attending  their  dissolution. 

She  sat  erect  and  assumed  a  smile  as  Donald, 
warm  and  flushed,  shaded  by  a  large  yellow  cotton 
umbrella,  came  with  miring  footsteps  and  ap- 
proached her  position,  some  distance  from  the  firm, 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  245 

wave-washed  strand.  She  lifted  her  sad,  serious 
eyes  to  his  suffused  countenance ;  she  gathered  the 
voluminous,  befrilled  skirt  of  her  white  dress  com- 
pactly about  her  feet  as  she  said,  hospitably : 

"Share  my  seat  with  me,  Donald!  You  appear 
really  fatigued  and  very  warm." 

She  indicated  the  limited  level  space  by  a  sweep  of 
her  hand  over  the  ledge  she  had  dug  in  the  sand.  He 
planted  his  stout  umbrella  near  her  dainty  canopy 
and  reclined  in  its  shadow.  He  was  garbed  in  a 
nobby  suit  of  white  duck;  he  fanned  himself  with 
his  wide-brimmed  straw  hat,  adorned  with  a  blue 
silken  band.  He  had  been  much  of  a  dandy  during 
his  happy  holiday;  gallant  and  gay,  persistently 
cheerful  and  in  touch  wtih  all  the  gayety  the  place 
provided. 

"Why  will  you  run  away  to  such  unreasonable 
distances?"  he  queried,  with  frank  petulance,  feel- 
ing an  unwarrantable  desire  to  scold  her;  resenting 
instinctively  the  lifeless  tone  of  her  conduct,  her  con- 
stantly introspective  manner. 

"I  wished  to  be  alone,  and  here  I  find  congenial 
quietude,"  she  responded  with  listless  amiability. 
She  serenely  viewed  his  evident  fatigue  and  nervous- 
ness. 

"A  craving  for  solitude  is  your  chief  desire,  it 
seems  to  me,"  he  retorted,  and  ostentatiously  drew 
his  handkerchief  and  waped  his  flushing  counten- 
ance. Ruth  judged  that  he  must  have  been  very 
gallant  and  gay  to  have  so  invited  fatigue  and 
irritability. 

"I  believed  you  were  in  the  surf  still  with  those 
girls  from  the  city  ?"  she  remarked,  interrogatively. 


246  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

"I  was ;  but  I  am  not  living  in  the  surf,  remember. 
It  is  hours  since  we  came  out  of  the  water,  and  the 
girls  have  returned  home  to  rest  up  for  the  dance 
to-night." 

She  smiled  upon  him  sympathetically.  "It  was 
too  bad  for  them  to  leave  so  early,  and  it  is  your  last 
day  to  be  with  them." 

"Indeed,  so !"  he  rejoined,  so  inattentively  she 
changed  the  subject,  impressed  that  it  was  incum- 
bent upon  her  to  entertain  him,  in  that  he  had  sought 
her  so  directly. 

"Is  it  not  restful  here?"  she  remarked  confidingly. 
"One  feels  the  warmth,  but  it  does  not  enervate  the 
system,  for  the  air  is  such  a  pure  refreshment ;  as 
pure  as  the  breath  breathed  into  Adam's  lungs  by  his 
Divine  Creator." 

"Are  such  the  thoughts  which  evoked  the  forlorn 
expression  you  were  wearing  just  now?"  he  asked, 
still  absent  in  manner. 

"No,  I  was  not  thinking  of  Adam,"  she  confessed, 
readily. 

Donald,  refreshed  by  the  breeze  and  welcome 
shade,  forgot  his  former  irritation ;  the  languorous 
thrall  of  the  summer  day,  the  slumberous  chant  of 
the  hymn  of  the  sea,  the  charm  of  Ruth's  prized 
presence,  had  soothed  his  nerves  and  restored  his 
cheerfulness. 

Secretly  he  had  rebelled  against  Ruth's  abiding 
listlessness  and  aloofness  from  every  temporal  in- 
terest and  pleasure,  her  unabating  passion  for  the 
sea ;  that  she  arose  at  early  morn  to  view  its  flush- 
ing glory,  her  lingering  at  sunset  to  watch  the  light 
fade   from  its  rare  placidity  of   surface;  that  she 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  247 

worshipped  it  by  starlight  and  moonUght.  and  all  the 
long  days  heeded  its  voice  of  sonorous  solemnity.  It 
seemed  to  be  the  only  thing  that  compelled  her  in- 
terest and  commanded  her  attention.  He  resented 
her  silence  and  self-effacement,  when  she  could  have 
so  easily  reigned  absolutely  in  the  little  world  of 
which  she  was  the  most  admired  member. 

He  had  taken  his  holiday  appreciatively,  given  his 
time  to  recreation  and  spent  his  limited  leisure  down 
there  by  the  sea  because  Ruth  was  the  attraction 
that  had  drawn  him  there.  Now  he  felt  sensitively 
aggrieved  that  he  had  seen  so  little  of  her.  She  had 
not,  it  was  true,  particularly  avoided  him,  but  her 
presence  was  hard  to  obtain  in  any  circle  where  he 
passed  the  time  in  vapid  gallantry  with  people  he  did 
not  care  for,  and  who  often  bored  him  exceedingly. 
Ruth  would  not  dance,  and  was  seldom  out  of  her 
room  in  the  evenings  when  others  danced  or  had 
games  in  the  hotel  parlors. 

Notwithstanding,  he  had  often  espied  her  on  the 
pier  in  company  with  an  old  gentleman,  who  reeled 
in  ringed  fish  enthusiastically,  and  out  in  a  hammock 
swung  beneath  a  remote  live  oak,  where,  through  a 
convenient  vista,  she  glimpsed  the  distant  mound  of 
the  sea ;  and  rarely  he  had  located  her  far  away  up 
the  beach,  basking  on  the  sands,  with  only  her 
thoughts  for  company. 

He  had,  then,  just  left  the  gay  and  noisy  pavilion 
on  the  brink  of  the  surf  and  tramped  the  long  way 
to  secure  a  coveted  interview  with  her,  for  he  was 
going  away  to-morrow  to  begin  the  tedium  of  an- 
other long  absence.  He  swept  her  profile  with 
covert  but  admiring  glances ;  the  gleam  of  her  golden 


248  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

hair,  the  sweep  of  her  silky  lashes  thrilled  him  with 
exquisite  sensations,  although  his  expression  was 
the  antipode  of  sentimental  espionage. 

"Ruth,"  he  said,  inquiringly,  "why  are  you  so 
changed,  so  different?  What  is  it  that  is  wrecking 
your  youth  and  giving  you  such  premature  serious- 
ness and  sadness?  None  of  the  pleasures  of  life 
seem  to  appeal  to  you." 

"I  am  just  as  I  am.  I  cannot  help  my  moods ;  you 
believe  what  I  say,  do  you  not,  Donald?"  she  replied, 
slowly,  forlornly. 

"You  need  some  ambition,  some  interest,  to  arouse 
you,"  he  said,  admonishingly. 

"Do  you  think  so?  Perhaps  it  is  so,  but  really  I 
have  been  working  assiduously ;  I  have  not  been  idle 
since  we  parted." 

"That  should  be  no  reason  for  nun-like  behavior, 
though,"  he  said,  and  then  paused,  stammeringly. 

"No,  but  just  now  I  am  not  very  strong,  remem- 
ber," she  answered,  turning  her  glance  upon  him 
frankly. 

The  color  suffused  his  face  painfully;  he  gazed 
seaward,  and  blinked  from  the  glare  of  the  sun  re- 
flected in  its  troubled  waters. 

"I — came  up  here  to  speak  with  you,  Ruth ;  you 
know  I  am  going  away  to-morrow,  and — and — er 
— ,"  his  blushes  became  really  embarrassing  to  each, 
and  caused  Ruth  to  wonder,  silently,  why  he  was  so 
bashfully  perturbed. 

"Oh,  Donald,  do  not  ask  me  to  dance  to-night.  I 
am  going  out  just  to  please  Aunt  Jean  and  your 
mother !"  she  cried. 

"It  is  not  about  the  dance  I  came  to  see  you ;  it  is 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  249 

quite  different,"  he  explained,  his  embarrassment 
deepening,  perceptibly. 

"Well?"  she  encouraged  him. 

"No;  it  is  nothing  about  the  dance.  It  is  some- 
thing more  important,  to  me  at  least,"  he  repeated 
incoherently.  "I  came  up  here  to — to — inform  you 
that  I  was  in  love — and — er — wished  to  tell  you  so." 

Ruth  frowned  in  her  effort  to  comprehend ;  view- 
ing his  unwonted  diffidence,  it  was  some  moments 
ere  she  grasped  what  he  was  confessing  so  con- 
fusedly. 

"And  is  it  the  little  Edna  Wallace,  Donald?"  she 
queried  gently,  sympathetically. 

He  stared,  and  then  vociferated  an  emphatic  de- 
nial. "That  giggling,  frisky,  vain  child  !  I  am  humili- 
ated in  that  you  could  suggest  such  a  thing !" 

"But  I  thought,  or  rather  inferred  that  you  were 
with  her  very  often,  and  therefore  quite  fond  of 
her,"  Ruth  hastened  to  explain.  "Well,  who  is  it, 
then,  that  has  won  your  heart,  if  I  may  question  you 
on  so  delicate  a  subject?"  she  insisted,  assuming  an 
interest  in  his  affairs  of  heart  she  was  guiltless  of 
entertaining. 

He  did  not  answer  her  immediately ;  indeed,  he 
was  just  then  floundering  in  the  throes  of  an  abject 
abasement,  feeling  that  he  was  not  worthy  of  her 
respect,  even.  So  painful  was  his  confusion  that  his 
features  were  as  intensely  colored  as  a  freshly  blown 
peony  blossom.  Ruth  was  silent  from  sheer  amaze- 
ment ;  his  behavior  was  so  at  variance  with  his  char- 
acter. 

"It  is  you  I  love,  Ruth,  and  none  other.  Have 
you  never  guessed  that  I  love  you  ?"  he  said,  and  his 


250  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

high  color  ebbed  violently,  leaving  him  pale  unto  a 
white  pallor  of  lips  and  a  darkening  intensity  of  his 
clear  gray  eyes.  The  evidences  of  such  sincere 
emotion,  of  such  intense  feeling  enlightened  Ruth 
more  than  his  incoherent  speech,  and  she  suddenly 
awoke  to  a  realization  from  which  she  recoiled  with 
an  infinite  repugnance  and  sorrow.  She  sat  erect, 
she  clasped  her  hands  in  impulsive  distress. 

"Oh,  why  do  you  say  such  things  to  me,  Donald?" 
she  exclaimed,  in  sharp  rebuke,  her  dismay  too  genu- 
ine to  be  easily  suppressed. 

"Why  does  any  man  say  such  things?"  he  re- 
torted, argimientatively,  as  he  picked  up  a  bleached 
shell,  a  crumbling  waif  astray  from  its  element,  and 
tossed  it  afar  into  the  dimpling  surf. 

He  turned  to  question  her  silence,  and  in  the 
lambent  flame  of  his  passion-lighted  eyes,  the  trem- 
ulous quiver  of  his  wdiite  lips,  she  beheld  again  a 
heart's  supreme  surrender  to  her  charm.  She  nearly 
swooned  with  the  shock  of  the  discovery,  that 
Donald,  her  one-time  mentor,  her  ever  dear  friend, 
had  given  his  happiness  into  her  unwelcome  keeping. 

"I  love  you,  love  you,  Ruth!"  he  explained,  and 
lapsed  suddenly  into  a  calm  reversal  to  sophisticated 
speech  and  behavior.  "Always  I  have  loved  you,  it 
seems  to  me ;  so  long,  I  long  ago  became  accustomed 
to  the  pain  and  the  bliss  of  the  knowledge ;  pain  in 
that  I  might  never  wnn  you  ;  bliss  just  to  have  known 
you  and  the  love  you  inspired  so  innocently.  It  is 
as  much  a  part  of  my  life  as  living  and  breathing! 
What  is  there  so  strange  in  the  fact  that  it  should 
so  astonish  and  frighten  you  ?"  he  added,  rebukingly, 
and  found  another  shell  to  aim  at  the  unofifendinsf 
ocean.    Her  behavior  humiliated  him  exceedingly 


& 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  251 

"It  is  too  horrible  to  be  true !"  she  breathed,  in  a 
soHloquizing  tone,  as  swift  reflection  mirrored  possi- 
ble suffering,  and  sorrow  for  such  a  noble,  true  heart 
as  she  believed  his  to  be. 

"Oh,  say  it  is  not  true !  Say  that  you  are  trying  to 
tease  me,  to  mock  me !  Oh,  anything,  but  that  you 
love  me !"  she  beseeched  him  so  desperately  he  was 
hurt,  offended,  and  disdained  to  reply. 

"Love  me  !  Oh,  Donald,  you  must  be  joking !"  she 
implored,  seeking  relief  from  a  knowledge  that  was 
agonizing.     He  sat  rigid  and  unresponsive. 

She  arose  in  the  stress  of  an  uncontrollable  excite- 
ment. "Say  you  are  jesting,  Donald!  See  how  you 
have  frightened  me !" 

"I  am  not  jesting,  Ruth  !  I  would  not  jest  upon  so 
sacred  a  subject  as  love,"  he  said  contritely,  as  his 
hopes  fluttered  low  as  birds  with  wounded  pinions. 

She  stood  motionless,  probing  the  sombre  depths 
of  his  eyes,  in  which  was  mirrored  the  unspoken 
depth  of  his  devotion  to  her.  Her  heart  was  pierced 
with  a  torturing  remorse,  and  she  knelt  contritely, 
humbly,  in  the  sand  at  his  feet. 

"Tell  me,  Donald,  that  I  am  not  to  blame  in  this ! 
I  cannot  realize  that  I  am.  If  I  did,  remorse  would 
slay  me.  What  did  I  do  that  you  should  love  me?" 
she  prayed,  piteously.  She  was  convinced  that  he 
loved  her  by  the  remembrance  of  her  own  passion 
and  sorrow. 

"You  did  nothing  but  be  your  own  true  self,"  he 
assured  her.  "You  were,  you  are  very  beautiful; 
people  speak  of  that  fact  every  day,  here,  but  it  was 
not  your  beauty  that  won  me.  I  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  meeting  the  most  beautiful  women  in  this 


252  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

and  adjoining  States  since  my  earliest  college  days, 
and  I  never  felt  toward  one  of  them  as  I  have  re- 
garded you  since  I  have  known  you  intimately.  I 
have  given  you  the  one  love  of  my  heart.  Whatever 
it  was  that  won  me,  I  know  I  love  you  with  an  abso- 
lute affection !  I  think  it  was  your  innocence  and 
uprightness  of  character,  combined  with  your 
seraphic  spirituality." 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  bowed  her  head  in  the 
intensity  of  her  questioning  rebuke. 

"Why  did  you  not  woo  me,  then  ?  Oh,  Donald ! 
Our  lives  might  have  been  so  different  if  you  had 
won  my  heart,  when  I  was  a  veritable  Virginia  in  my 
innocence  of  the  world ;  you  could  have  so  easily 
posed  as  Paul  in  our  untrammelled  acquaintance- 
ship." 

"I  was  a  gentleman,"  he  averred,  proudly.  "I  could 
do  nothing  so  dishonoarble  as  to  win  your  love  ere 
you  knew  anything  of  others ;  it  might  have  proved 
fatal,  as  well  as  dishonorable." 

"Dishonorable?"  she  echoed,  in  a  startled  tone. 
"Why  dishonorable  ?" 

"I  was  your  tutor,"  he  explained.  "Your  aunt 
trusted  me  to  fill  that  role  with  credit  to  myself  and 
respect  for  you ;  I  could  not  take  advantage  of  your 
inexperience  and  ignorance  of  other  men.  I  did  not 
desire  to  win  you  so ;  I  wanted  you  to  see  the  world, 
to  be  informed,  to  have  an  enlightened  standard 
wherewith  to  judge  me  and  my  aspirations,  my 
ideals ;  and  I  am  glad  that  I  restrained  my  desire  to 
win  you  then.  But  now  I  can  urge  my  suit  with  a 
clear  conscience,"  he  concluded,  determinately. 

She  breathlessly  scrutinized  his  fair,  pleasing  per- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  253 

sonality,  his  great  strength  of  muscle  and  the  purity 
of  his  countenance,  mirroring  so  truly  his  loftiness 
of  spirit. 

"I  wish  it  could  be  as  you  wish,  but  it  is  too  late 
now,"  she  sighed,  in  a  genuine  burst  of  regret. 
"Donald,  dear  friend,  it  is  too  late  to  form  such  a  tie 
between  us." 

"I  cannot  believe  it !"  he  cried,  stubbornly.  "Un- 
less there  is  someone  else  who  has  a  claim  upon  you. 
Is  there  someone,  Ruth  ?"  he  asked,  with  disbelieving 
concern. 

"No,"  she  returned,  studiously,  after  an  interval 
of  reflection.  "There  is  no  one  else  on  earth  who 
has  the  least  claim  upon  my  heart  or  loyalty,  and 
there  never  will  be,  I  am  convinced,  almost  to  a 
certainty." 

Her  words  and  manner  were  too  sincere,  too 
solemn,  to  admit  of  the  least  doubt  that  she  spoke 
from  a  firm  conviction.  Intense  sadness  clothed  her 
expression  as  she  arose  and  brushed  the  sand  from 
her  dress,  drew  on  her  white  gloves,  and,  lifting  her 
parasol,  furled  it,  absently. 

"Donald,  listen  and  heed  my  words.  I  shall  never 
love  anyone  else,  but  that  does  not  leave  the  infer- 
ence that  I  shall  ever  love  you.  You  must  give  your 
heart  and  hand  to  some  happy,  fair  woman,  who  will 
cherish  you  as  you  deserve  to  be  loved  and  adored ; 
you  must  think  of  me  as  a  friend  only,  but  a  very 
true  friend,  who  prays  for  you  the  very  greatest 
good  the  wide  world  has  to  offer  to  its  noblest  of 
sons  and  devotees." 

He  sprang  erect,  strong  and  compoesd.  "Never 
mind  about  someone  to  cherish  me !  For  the  other 
part  of  your  prayer,  grateful  thanks  and  apprecia- 


254  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

tion !  I — I  will  wait  and  labor  to  win  you,  even  as 
Jacob  served  his  seven,  yea,  twice  seven  years  to 
attain  his  Rachel." 

He  lifted  his  ugly  sunshade  and  deliberately  furled 
it  as  she  stood  facing  the  sea,  her  heart  battling  with 
a  tide  of  resurrected  emotions.  Silently,  and  by 
mutual  impulse,  they  moved  down  to  the  margin  of 
the  beach  and  walked  along  the  hard,  moist  strand, 
oppressed  by  the  crisis  of  the  moment. 

Donald  detoured  on  the  way  to  gather  for  her  a 
sheaf  of  golden  sea-oats,  and  casually  discoursed 
discursively  upon  their  hardy  growth  and  tenacious 
vitality.  He  picked  up  irridescent  shells,  newly 
washed  ashore,  and  examined  them  with  assumed 
interest  and  speculation. 

They  found  the  beach  pavilion  deserted,  except  by 
those  who  catered  to  the  pleasures  and  the  appetites 
of  the  public  which  flocked  there  in  private  parties 
and  public  excursions.  Those  mercenaries  were 
putting  their  booths  in  order  for  another  day  and 
clearing  the  playground  for  care-free,  holiday 
seekers. 

The  lilliputian  engine  and  its  diminutive  train  of 
two  small  passenger  coaches  stood  panting  and 
restive  for  its  last  trip  across  the  Sound.  Donald 
assisted  her  aboard  and  found  her  a  seat.  He  re- 
versed the  seat  in  front  of  hers,  and  sat  facing  her, 
holding  in  his  hands  the  sheaf  of  oats,  his  trans- 
lucent, alert  eyes  embracing  her  worshippingly, 
whenever  she  dared  to  meet  the  adoring  light  flood- 
ing their  strong  depths.  She  cowed  in  spirit  from 
his  optimistic  view  of  their  relations  to  each  other; 
her  heart  throbbed  in  slow,  pulsing  regret  and  hope- 
lessness. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  255 

The  Opalescent  Sound,  over  which  they  were  pass- 
ing, impelled  by  the  fussy  small  engine,  dimpled  and 
radiated  golden  lights,  the  sun  was  reflected  in  its 
waters  as  a  blazing,  intensely  toned  topaz ;  and 
Donald,  the  restraints  of  convention  for  the  moment 
cast  off,  gave  rein  to  a  happiness  unto  which  he  was 
a  stranger. 

They  disembarked  from  the  train  to  the  strains  of 
the  orchestra,  playing  their  ante-supper  stint  in  the 
pavilion.  When  night  had  fallen  upon  the  sea,  it 
lifted  up  its  voice  to  smite  the  solitude  of  darkness 
with  moanings  and  sighings  peculiar  to  its  burthen 
of  sound.  Ruth  leaned  from  their  bedroom  window 
as  Jean  preened  before  their  one  mirror.  The  hotel, 
its  grounds  and  pavilion,  blazed  with  lights,  and  re- 
vealed unusual  festivity.  A  certain  military  com- 
pany was  giving  a  German  complimentary  to  the 
young  ladies  who  had  enlivened  their  leisure  since 
they  had  gone  into  encampment,  a  mile  or  so  distant 
from  the  point  occupied  by  the  hotel  on  the  ham- 
mocks. 

The  present  occasion  had  been  given  rare  impor- 
tance, for  the  company  had  proven  a  very  popular 
one  with  the  seaside  society  that  summer,  and  a 
large  contingent  of  the  smartest  society,  in  the  near- 
by city,  were  expected  to  attend  the  function. 

Jean  had  conceived  a  peculiar  reverence  for  the 
best  element  of  people  in  the  old  town  near  the  sea, 
which  was  so  indissolubly  associated  with  the  for- 
tunes of  the  exiled  Highlanders,  especially  their 
colonial  career.  She  enjoyed  meeting  its  citizens 
and  favorably  impressing  them  with  her  own  im- 
portance as  a  member  of  the  honorable  families  de- 
scended from  the  exiles.     She  had  made  it  a  habit 


256  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

to  be  elegantly  dressed,  and  had  imbued  Ruth  to 
obedience  to  the  same  custom,  although  Ruth  was 
indifferent  to  such  a  vanity  of  social  distinction,  and 
had  shrunk  sensitively  from  the  admiration  her  ap- 
pearance constantly  excited. 

That  evening  Jean  had  insisted  that  she  should 
wear  her  most  elaborate  toilet  and  the  rare  gems 
Angus  Bethune  had  lavishly  given  to  her  out  of  his 
great  abundance;  and  she  had  complied  with  Jean's 
wish  with  her  usual  docility.  When  Jean  had  put 
the  final  touch  to  her  own  elegant  toilet,  she  turned 
and  discovered  Ruth  drooping  on  the  window-sill. 

"Well,"  she  breathed  in  a  burst  of  satisfaction 
with  her  appearance,  "we  will  go  out  now,  if  you  are 
ready,  bairnie?" 

Ruth  arose  with  visible  reluctance  and  took  up  her 
fan  and  evening  wrap. 

"Are  you  not  well,  Ruthie?  Did  dressing  fatigue 
you?"  Jean  questioned,  solicitously,  as  she  noted  an 
excess  of  lassitude  in  Ruth's  manner. 

"No,  not  especially,  thank  you.  Auntie,"  Ruth  re- 
joined, evasively. 

"The  outdoor  air  will  refresh  you  and  the  music 
rest  you,"  Jean  assured  her,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion. Ruth  quietly  led  the  way  from  the  room,  and 
Jean  followed  her.  She  was  rarely  handsome  in  her 
glistening  black  silk  costurqe,  relieving  daintily  her 
fair  hair  and  Gaelic  features. 

A  gay  scene  greeted  them  beyond  the  entrance. 
Gaudy  Oriental  lanterns  depended  from  the  low 
branches  of  the  live-oaks,  emitting  a  dim  but 
gorgeously  tinted  light ;  the  pavilion  was  brilliantly 
illuminated,  and  draped  with  State  and  national 
flags  and  bedecked  with  fragrant  greens  and  flowers. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  257 

A  full  orchestra  breathed  sweet  and  plaintive  airs; 
formally  arrayed  people,  gay  and  noisy  in  their 
pleasure,  moved  about  the  grounds  or  graced  the  in- 
terior of  the  pavilion  with  their  beaming  presence. 

Ruth  found  a  seat  with  the  matrons,  Donald's 
mother  and  Jean  on  either  side  of  her,  desiring  as 
much  as  possible  to  efface  herself  from  the  feverish 
scene  of  revelry. 

Donald  danced,  when  the  ball  was  opened,  and  was 
very  gallant  with  the  pretty  young  girls,  clothed  in 
their  artistic  evening  dresses.  He  seldom  approached 
the  matrons'  section,  and  Ruth  was  mostly  oblivious 
of  him  as  she  lived  in  memories  which,  despite  her 
inclination : 

"The  tender  words  she  had  heard  so  oft, 
Still  rang  through  heart  and  brain," 

to  the  sobbing,  sighing,  exulting  strains  of  the  ten- 
derly subdued  music,  until 

"She  writhed  and  her  pulses  throbbed, 
With  a  bitter,  maddening  pain." 

She  found  it  futile  to  say  to  her  plaining  heart: 

"Oh.  why  should  I  think  of  those  broken  vows  with  such 

regret? 
I  must  rise  above  and  beyond  it  all,  and  in  time  quite 

forget ! 
Yet  I  cannot  keep  those  memories  back,  they  are  too 

strong  for  me; 
They  come  and  go,  they  rise  and  fall,  like  the  waves  of 

the  restless  sea. 


258  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

They  dash  against  my  broken  heart,  those  memories — 

those  memories  lone; 
They  leave  me  like  a  stranded  ship,  whose  helm  and 

anchor  are  gone." 

With  introspective  mind  she  heeded  the  waiHng, 
thrilling  voice  of  the  instruments,  lost  in  a  realm  of 
revery,  a  soul's  seance  of  mingled  bliss  and  worm- 
wood. Summer  skies  and  the  fragrance  of  roses, 
darkest  eyes  and  tenderest  smiling  lips,  seen  far 
away  in  the  past,  which  the  music  re-embodied  in 
moonlight,  in  perfume  of  lilies,  in  the  notes  of  mock- 
ing-birds and  the  cooing  of  pigeons.  As  the  music 
swayed  its  influence,  drowning  the  suppressed  agony 
of  the  sea  waves'  mystery,  the  circling  couples 
gliding  over  the  glossed  floor  were  dim,  distant  fig- 
ures scarcely  noted,  as  her  heart  melted  with  longing 
and  sorrow.  When  the  longing  became  an  over- 
whelming desire  which  she  knew  could  never  be 
realized,  she  prayed,  desperately : 

"Oh  for  a  haven  where  still  waters  lie! 
Where  no  memory  can  my  bosom  fret! 
For  the  water  of  Lethe,  for  the  Siren's  song! 
That  will  help  me  to  forget." 

It  was  the  misfortune  of  her  sincere  temperament 
that  her  life  could  not  be  a  series  of  episodes,  like 
many  of  the  gay  young  creatures  wholly  absorbed  in 
the  dance;  perhaps  not  capable  of  a  supreme  emo- 
tion; with  her,  emotion,  like  flowers,  might  wither 
and  decay,  but  would  have  perpetual  roots. 

Although  aloof  in  spirit  and  in  heart  widely  sep- 
arated  from  the  present,  she  was,  personally,  the 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  259 

cynosure  of  many  admiring  glances.  Jean  and  Mrs. 
MacKethan  were  the  recipients  of  many  flattering 
attentions  from  young  men  seeking  an  introduction 
and  hoping  to  secure  a  dance  with  the  most  beautiful 
and  most  elegantly  attired  young  lady  present. 
Elderly  people  openly  admired  and  sought  her  ac- 
quaintance ;  the  young  girls  envied  her  beauty,  her 
elegance  of  apparel  and  splendor  of  gems ;  and 
Donald  swept  her  with  prudent  but  ardent  scrutiny, 
incessantly,  for  to  him  the  assembly  held  but  one 
charm,  one  solitary  joy,  the  bliss  of  her  presence. 

When  the  last  dance  had  been  finished  and  the 
strains  of  "Home,  Sweet  Home,"  were  dismissing 
the  wearied  but  happy  throng,  Donald  sought  her 
resolutely,  and  placing  her  hand  upon  his  arm, 
piloted  her  along  the  dim,  winding  way  to  the  hotel 
entrance.  There  they  paused  to  await  their  relatives, 
who  were  parting  leisurely  with  a  group  of  acquaint- 
ances down  at  the  pavilion.  He  unfolded  her  cloak, 
a  rich,  silken  garment  given  to  her  by  Angus  Bethune 
the  previous  winter,  and  wrapped  it  gently  about  her 
shoulders.  The  limpid  peace  of  the  solemn  mid- 
night hour  brooded  the  intruding  sea;  alone,  the 
golden  stars  glittered  in  the  purple  depths  of  the 
obscure  heavens. 

"Come  out  with  me,  Ruth.  There  are  seats  quite 
near,  and  I  want  to  be  alone  with  you  while  my  heart 
is  breaking  with  the  sorrow  of  parting.  You  know 
I  leave  early  in  the  morning  and  shall  not  see  you 
again,"  he  pleaded,  tremulously.  She  shrank  from 
him  then,  with  a  shrinking  akin  to  a  fear  of  him  and 
the  flaming  passion  in  his  beseeching  glances. 

"I  cannot,  Donald.    Really,  I  am  almost  fainting 


260  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

with  fatigue;  I  will  say  goodby  to-morrow,"  she 
faltered. 

"As  you  please,"  he  said,  with  a  brave  pride.  "But 
I  shall  go  very  early." 

"We,  too,  will  leave  here  next  week.  I  shall  go 
direct  to  my  school,  but  Aunt  Jean  will  return  to 
Kissic-Dale  for  a  lengthy  stay  before  joining  me, 
perhaps  some  time  in  the  Autumn.  Uncle  Angus  will 
visit  me  at  the  school  as  soon  as  I  arrive  there.  He 
is  now  in  the  North  on  business,  and  that  is  why 
Aunt  Jean  has  decided  not  to  accompany  me.  And 
— and  I  shall  not  return  to  Kissic-Dale  for  a  long 
period,  Donald;  you  must  forget  all  you  have  said 
to  me  to-day  ere  we  meet  again,  for  the  poor  little 
Ruth  of  Kissic-Dale  died  a  long  time  ago ;  she  is  no 
longer  among  the  living.  You  are  cherishing  a  phan- 
tom of  other  days !  The  dear,  dead  days  of  long 
ago,  days  beyond  recall,  therefore,  forget  them; 
banish  all  thoughts  of  me  from  your  heart  and  be 
happy,  as  you  so  richly  deserve  to  be,"  she  entreated 
with  a  dreary  earnestness.  She  laid  her  hand  upon 
his  arm  caressingly. 

"Dear,  kind  friend,"  she  added,  meeting  the 
sombre  wistfulness  of  his  regard  with  appealing  ten- 
derness, "I  do  honor  you  more  than  anyone  on  earth, 
and  it  breaks  my  heart  to  wound  you,  but  forget  me 
by  not  seeking  me  or  letting  a  thought  of  yours  stray 
to  the  time  when  you  say  you  learned  to  love  me.  I 
am  not  that  child,  that  little  Ruth.  Will  you  not 
believe  me?  It  pains  me  very  much  to  wound  you, 
but  I  could  not  be  otherwise  than  sincere  with  you, 
Donald." 

Moodily  he  gazed  upon  her  regal  beauty,  intensi- 
fied by  splendor  of  raiment  and  scintillation  of  gems ; 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  261 

it  was  a  far  cry  to  the  little  schoolroom  in  the  pine 
forest,  to  the  sweet  spring  days  when  his  heart  had 
made  its  final  and  everlasting  surrender ;  and  the 
future  lay  dim  and  uncertain  in  the  land  of  dreams 
and  hopes  to  be  accomplished. 

"I  cannot  promise  you  so  much;  I  think  I  shall 
seek  you  again,  and  yet  again,  throughout  my  whole 
life,  if  no  one  else  claims  you  before  I  win  you,"  he 
said,  with  equal  sincerity  and  earnestness. 

"No  one  else  will  ever  claim  me.  I  can  assure 
you  that  much,"  she  rejoined,  moving  a  step  away 
from  him  and  scrutinizing  him  by  the  radiance  of 
a  swinging  light  depending  from  the  ceiling  of  the 
hotel  veranda. 

He  was  very  handsome,  she  confessed,  ungrudg- 
ingly, in  his  conventional  evening  clothes,  and  he 
was  strong  and  graceful,  a  blonde  Viking,  whose 
courage  would  give  him  the  desire  and  the  prowess 
to  assail  the  strongholds  of  worldly  success  and  dis- 
tinguishment. 

"God  grant  that  no  one  wins  you.  I  believe  it 
would  drive  me  insane  to  know  you  were  lost  to  me 
irrevocably,"  he  declared  with  vehement  passion. 

"No,  it  would  not,  Donald,"  she  answered,  with  a 
prophetic  consolation ;  "such  blows  as  you  seem  to 
dread  bring  no  such  oblivion  as  is  found  in  insanity." 

Jean  and  his  sweet-faced  mother  approached  and 
joined  them ;  they  beamed  happily  upon  their  idols ; 
their  approval  of  the  tete-a-tete  they  had  happened 
upon,  was  as  a  city  set  upon  a  hill ;  Ruth  observed, 
and  understood,  with  a  guilty  sense  of  enmity  to 
their  wishes. 

"I  am  bidding  Donald  farewell,"  she  explained. 


262  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

with  twofold  meaning,  which  Donald  alone  com- 
prehended. 

"Not  farewell,  Ruth,"  he  interposed,  correctively, 
"only  au  revoir,  until  a  more  propitious  morrow." 


BOOK  IV. 
Winter. 

'All  things  are  symbols;  the  eternal  shows 
Of  Nature  have  their  image  in  the  mind. 
As  flowers,  fruits  and  falling  of  the  leaves; 
The  song-birds  leave  us  at  the  summer's  close. 
Only  the  empty  nests  are  left  behind. 
And  piping  of  quails  among  the  sheaves. 

— Selected. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Fleur-de-lis — Ruth's     Change     of     Destiny — 
When  Donald  Resumed  His  Wooing. 

"I've  marked  it  well,  and  found  it  true, 
Death  never  takes  one  alone,  but  two! 
Under  roof  of  gold  or  roof  of  thatch, 
He  always  leaves  it  upon  the  latch, 
And  comes  again  ere  the  year  is  o'er." 

— Selected. 

"A  wood  depth  skirting  the  way,     .... 
.      .      .     the  glow  of  the  sky,     .      .     ," 

.     like  the  flower  and  the  weed. 
That  wither  away  to  let  others  succeed." 

"Then  be  content,  poor  heart! 

God's  plans,  like  lilies  pure  and  white,  unfold. 
We  must  not  tear  the  close-shut  leaves  apart; 
Time  will  reveal  the  calj'xes  of  gold." 

— Selected. 

>Tearly  two  years  elapsed  ere  Donald  met  Ruth 
again ;  for  the  following  summer  Angus  Bethune  and 
Jean  had  gone  abroad  with  her,  and  upon  their  re- 
turn in  early  autumn  had  left  her  at  the  school  that 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  265 

for  SO  long  a  time  had  been  the  only  home  she  fre- 
quented. 

Then,  in  mid-winter  of  an  unusually  mild  season, 
La  Grippe,  a  scourge  of  almost  national  affliction, 
had  appeared,  and  many  were  the  victims  of  the 
insidious  disease.  Jean  was  early  attacked,  and 
Ruth  had  come  home  to  attend  her,  when  Angus 
Bethune,  learning  of  the  distress  at  Kissic-Dale, 
came  from  his  distant  Western  home  to  Ruth's  as- 
sistance, only  to  succumb  to  the  same  malady,  con- 
tracted on  the  journey. 

Jean  had  survived  but  had  not  regained  normal 
health.  Angus  had  died  in  April  and  was  buried 
beside  his  sister  Ruth,  at  Kissic-Dale  kirk.  This, 
and  many  more  details,  Donald  was  informed  of,  as 
he  drove  his  mother's  sleek  buggy  horse  adown  the 
elm  avenue  into  the  aroma  and  charm  of  the  well- 
remembered  old  homestead  at  Kissic-Dale. 

He  had  left  his  childhood's  home  in  the  early 
morning  and  had  traveled  constantly  to  reach  his 
destination  ere  the  June  sun  had  attained  to  high 
noon.  The  silence  of  the  solitary  journey  had  in- 
duced much  self-communion,  and  a  critical  review 
of  his  individual  sphere  in  the  plan  of  the  universe. 
It  came  to  pass  with  him,  as  with  every  logical  and 
reflective  mind,  to  search  the  conditions,  growths  of 
the  present,  that  had  evolved  his  ego  in  its  current 
stage  of  evolution. 

His  mother's  home,  similar  to  Kissic-Dale  in  its 
comforts  and  standards  of  living,  lay  beyond  many 
miles  of  pine  barrens  from  Kissic-Dale  ;  and  his  pace 
was  set  by  roads  of  yielding  white  sand,  through 
which  the  wheels  of  the  light  buggy  had  ploughed 


266  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 


with  a  constant  grind  and  hiss  of  friction.  Through 
vistas  of  pines,  he  had  gazed  afar  into  the  environing 
forest,  ghmpsing  shapely  green  hollies,  frowsy  scrub 
oaks  and  clumps  of  bulrush  in  the  frequent  hollows 
scooped  out  of  the  hills.  Indeed,  at  places  the  land 
lay  in  great  curving  and  conical  ridges,  as  if — and 
he  conjectured  that  it  must  be — it  was  a  deserted 
sea-beach,  with  its  dunes  and  shapen  surface,  woven 
by  winds  and  tides,  with  the  sand  for  the  web  driven 
by  their  fickle  shuttles,  which  centuries  had  kindly 
clothed  in  tall  pines  and  tough  scrub  oak  bushes. 

Insensibly,  the  scene,  so  familiar  to  his  boyhood, 
but  so  unfamiliar  to  the  habits  of  his  manhood  and 
his  vision  accustomed  to  the  ideals  of  the  Western 
college,  where  he  held  an  important  position  in  its 
faculty,  had  lured  his  fancy  back  to  the  primeval 
days  of  its  pioneer  settlement  by  the  exiles  of  the 
battle  of  Culloden,  the  unlucky,  loyal-hearted  fol- 
lowers of  "Bonny  Prince  Charlie."  They  were  his 
own  sturdy  progenitors,  his  hardy  ancestors,  who 
had  lain  aside  "the  plumed  bonnet,  the  Lincoln  green 
and  tartan  plaidie,"  the  kilts  and  the  philobegs  with 
the  sporting  and  martial  spirit  of 

"Scots  who  had  with  Wallace  bled, 
Scots  whom  Bruce  had  often  led. 
Who  for  Scotland's  king  and  law. 
Freedom's  sword  would  strongly  draw," 


and  clothed  in  the  products  of  the  looms  of  the 
pioneer,  had  hewn  themselves  homes  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  the  budding  Carolina  provinces.     They  had 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  267 

come  from  the  most  romantic  and  cultured  section 
of  the  Highlands,  he  knew,  and  the  battle  cry: 

"Up  with  the  banner!     Let  forests  fan  her! 
It  has  waved  over  Stuarts  ten  ages  or  more!" 


at  the  beginning  of  the  rebellion  which  had  ended  so 
disastrously  at  Culloden  Aloor,  was  no  idle  boast, 


"For  Charlie  they  lost  house  an'  haddin. 
For  Charlie  they  fought  on  the  sward; 
For  Charlie  they  bled  at  Culloden," 

and  for  Charlie  endured  massacre  and  exile;  yet 
bravely  sung : 

"  'Tis  well  I  love  my  Charlie's  name! 

Though  there  be  some  who  hate  him;" 
I  swear  by  moon  and  stars  so  bright 
And  the  sun  which  glances  early. 
If  I  had  twenty  thousand  lives 
I'd  give  them  all  for  Charlie!" 

But  for  all  their  brave  loyalty  to  a  lost  cause,  he 
knew  they  had  suffered  acutely  with  loneliness  and 
homesickness,  for  did  not  another  old  song  say,  a 
song  he  had  often  sung  with  Jean  MacEarchan 
when  he  was  at  Kissic-Dale : 

"There  was  a  track  across  the  deep, 

A  path  across  the  sea. 
But  the  weary  ne'er  returned 
To  their  ain  countrie. 


268  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

"They  ne'er  dinna  see  the  broom. 

With  its  tassels  on  the  lea; 
Nor  hear  the  linties  sang 
In  their  ain  countrie. 

"They  sighed  for  Scotia's  shore. 
They  gazed  across  the  sea; 
But  they  could  not  get  a  blink, 
Of  their  ain  countrie." 

There  were  other  old  songs,  too,  which  he  had 
sung  with  Jean  and  they  recurred  to  his  memory  as 
he  reahzed  the  silence  and  solitude  of  the  land,  which 
appealed  to  his  fancy  persistently : 

"Oh,  that  the  past  I  might  forget! 

Wanderin'  an'  weepin'! 
Oh,  that  aneath  the  hillock  green 

Sound  were  I  sleepin'! 
Where  bonny  ran  the  burnie  down, 

Wanderin'  an'  windin'. 
Sweetly  sang  the  birds  adown, 

Care  ne'er  mindin'." 

He  had  raised  his  voice  and  sang  the  stanza  while 
he  had  wondered  over  the  extent  of  the  original 
tracts  of  land  appropriated  by  those  lonely,  repining 
pioneers.  He  speculated  if  their  ambitions  had  been 
baronial,  or  if  they  had  been  enamored  of  the  seclu- 
sion and  peace  to  be  attained  amid  so  many  sterile 
acres  of  palisading  pines.  Following  this  trend  of 
thought,  he  had  also  recalled,  with  a  throb  of  racial 
loyalty,  that  he  was  amid  historic  scenes  sacred  to 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  269 

the  memory  of  the  heroine,  "Flora  MacDonald," 
whose  husband,  Kingsburgh,  son  of  the  "old  Laird," 
who  befriended  "Bonnie  Prince  Charlie,"  had  pre- 
empted thousands  of  acres  surrounding  his  home  at 
"Killie-gray,"  ere  his  royalist  zeal  sent  him  and  his 
family  back  to  Scotland,  to  the  loch-bound  "Isle  of 
Uist." 

Jean  had  written  him  a  wonderful  letter  from  that 
isle  the  previous  year ;  a  letter  as  full  of  patriotic  zeal 
as  a  cocoanut  is  of  meat,  but  he  had  resented  its 
exclusion  of  news  of  Ruth,  devotedly,  from  a  per- 
sonal standpoint,  but  very  unpatriotically,  he  con- 
fessed, indifferently. 

As  if  by  natural  gradation,  his  mind  reverted  to 
Ruth's  accession  of  fortune  by  the  immense  inherit- 
ance that  had  befallen  to  her  from  Angus  Bethune's 
estate,  which  had  far  exceeded  any  former  estimate 
of  his  fortune;  in  comparison,  Kissic-Dale  was  a 
pigmy  possession.  He  was  not  pleased  with  the 
situation  ;  he  would  much  prefer  Ruth  in  a  condition 
that  he  might  strive  to  win  her  position  and  pleasure, 
and  thus  prove  the  sincerity  of  his  devotion  ;  yet  he 
would  still  seek  to  win  her,  he  knew,  regardless  of 
any  influence  fate  might  entwine  about  his  suit. 

All  this  and  much  more,  lay  in  the  background  of 
his  mind  as  he  secured  his  horse  and  entered  Kissic- 
Da'e  'unannounced.  The  familiar  scene  basked  in  its 
most  charming  mood,  as  the  splendor  of  June  en- 
nobled every  phase  of  its  appointments.  The  roses 
gleaming  on  shrubbery  and  twining  columns  and  trel- 
lises, rivalled  the  magnificence  of  a  tropical  garden; 
the  mocking-birds  were  gay  in  the  royal  magnolias. 
An    emotional    surge    of    passionate    remembrance 


270  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

thrilled  his  heart  and  mind  as  he  embraced  it  all  in 
a  receptive  wave  of  fondest  feeling. 

He  found  Jean  in  an  invalid  chair  placed  in  her 
favorite  nook  of  the  veranda,  with  Mary  Graham 
knitting  beside  her.  Each  was  robed  in  black  as  a 
tribute  to  the  lonely  man  who  had  none  nearer  to 
mourn  him  than  the  household  at  Kissic-Dale.  He 
inquired  for  Ruth,  and  Jean  lamented  that  her 
weakness  had  imposed  much  responsibility  upon 
Ruth,  who  was  then,  she  inferred,  in  the  rear  garden 
as  was  her  habit  much  of  her  days. 

"I  will  look  for  her,"  he  said,  and  he  instantly 
started  on  the  quest. 

To  pass  from  the  front  to  the  rear  lawn  was  as 
if  passing  from  a  scene  set  for  the  public  eye  to  the 
cloistered  peace  and  quietude  of  a  family  altar ;  for 
it  breathed  the  incense  of  "y^  olden  days"  in  scent, 
and  profusion  of  old-fashioned  conceits  in  shrub 
and  posy.  The  past  seemed  held  ineffaceably  in  the 
shadow  and  growth  promulgated  by  a  former  gen- 
eration, whose  feet  had  trod  the  turf  and  lungs  in- 
haled the  refreshing  aroma. 

The  spot  had  always  appeared  peculiarly  a 
memorial  to  those  who  had  lived  and  flourished  in 
their  brief  span  of  life  close  to  its  vernal  heart  that 
embodied  the  elements  of  love  of  race,  of  family 
reverence,  clannish  ties,  fraternal  affections,  loyalty 
to  principles  and  inviolable  standards. 

The  overshadowing  trees  of  Catalpa,  of  Pride  of 
India,  of  Aspen,  of  elm  and  maple;  the  one  slender 
pine  standing  as  a  sentinel  guarding  a  lonely  outpost, 
the  clipped  box  and  cedars,  the  beds  of  lavender, 
white  lilies,  lady  grass,  four-o'clocks  and  white  and 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  271 

purple,  flourishing  Fleur  de  lis;  the  attenuated  Httle 
Scotch  pine ;  the  green,  tough  grass,  to  which  spark- 
ling dewdrops  cking  tenaciously ;  the  Hlacs,  the 
honeysuckle,  the  hedges  of  broom,  the  clean, 
graveled  paths ;  aye !  and  an  Old  World  atmosphere, 
altogether,  embalmed  in  lavender  and  thyme  and  the 
dainty  incense  of  garden  pinks  and  ascension  lilies. 

Donald's  footsteps  lagged  as  he  descended  into  its 
emerald,  shadow-flecked  peace  and  fragrance,  its 
serene  and  reposeful  dignity.  Involuntarily,  he  felt 
for  the  hat  he  was  not  wearing,  to  salute  the  senti- 
ment it  evoked  in  his  bosom.  Notwithstanding  that 
he  was  of  the  world  and  worldly  in  its  highest,  most 
intellectual  sense,  the  most  holy  recess  of  his  heart 
was  troubled  with  a  peculiar  emotion  of  reverence 
for  the  past,  the  sincere  simplicity  of  the  pioneer 
days  of  his  ancestry  transplanted  to  an  unbroken 
wilderness.  He  was  instantly  informed  of  a  differ- 
ence in  the  spot  from  his  recollections  of  it  in  former 
days;  there  was  such  pertinent  evidence  of  culture 
bestowed  in  laborious  detail,  in  nicety  of  pruning  of 
shrubbery,  in  clipped  grass  and  cultivated  beds  and 
neatly  kept  paths. 

He  was  arrested,  indefinitely,  by  a  great  bedded 
circle  of  vigorous  Flcur  de  lis,  centrally  located  and 
encircled  by  a  wide  sweep  of  sanded  soil,  which  he 
was  certain  had  not  been  there  when  he  lived  at 
Kisyic-Dale.  He  was  to  learn  later  that  Ruth  had 
gathered  together  every  root  of  the  once  famous 
flower  scattered  widely  over  the  entire  premises 
from  seedlings  of  colonial  days,  and  massed  them  in 
a  highly  enriched  bed  of  loam  in  the  most  prominent 
and  conspicuous  situation  of  the  enclosure.  He 
knew,  though,  the  history  of  the  plant  and  the  rever- 


272  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

ence  of  the  pioneer  Highlanders  for  the  hardy  Iris ; 
that  it  was  a  reminiscent  rehc  of  the  Jacobin  and 
colonial  eras,  so  impressive  and  tragical  in  their  re- 
vulsive, storm-smitten  conditions. 

The  huge  bed  was  a  mass  of  blooms  with  gold 
gilded  throats  encased  in  a  shaggy  livery  of  crinkled 
white  and  purple  crepe,  the  fragrance  peculiar  to  the 
genus  diffused  with  that  of  the  old-fashioned  roses, 
perfuming  the  cool  spaces  as  frankincense  and 
myrrh  seals  their  individual  atmosphere  to  devo- 
tional altars. 

He  plucked  a  quaintly  garbed  blossom  and  studied 
it  analytically ;  he  flirted  the  plumed  calyx  and 
probed  for  the  golden  stamens  and  royal  corolla  of 
purple  velvet,  the  details  which  had  won  the  flower 
its  distinction ;  memories,  rooted  in  traditional 
knowledge  were  reinstated  in  his  mind  as  butter- 
flies arise  from  a  thrifty  bed  of  herbs. 

"Oh,  flower  of  France !"  he  soliloquized,  rever- 
ently, "you  flourish  as  memorials  of  many  genera- 
tions, lest  we  of  Highland  blood  forget  that  your 
country  gave  asylum  to  our  Bonny  Prince  Charlie ! 
And,  perhaps,  in  that  you  rendered  succor  to  a  weak 
and  struggling  colony,  paradoxical  as  that  sentiment 
may  appear  from  the  viewpoint  of  Revolutionary 
history!" 

He  deliberated  a  moment  ere  he  selected  a  white 
bloom,  still  apostrophizing  the  loyalty  of  the  idea 
conveyed  by  the  honor  bestowed  upon  a  plant  so 
long  past  its  novelty  and  fame,  that  a  study  of  them 
informed  him  of  life's  evanescent  quality  and  fleet- 
ing span  that: 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  273 

"Alas!  We  are  but  eddies  of  the  dust! 

Uplifted  by  the  blast,  and  whirled  along  the  highway  of 

the  world 
A  moment  only,  then  to  fall  back  to  a  common  lot  of  all 
At  the  subsidence  of  the  gust." 

Through  the  reverence  and  loyalty  of  all  former 
generations  of  iMacKenzies,  the  spot  perpetuated  the 
memory  of  the  French  monarchs  whose  dominance 
had  ended  with  Louis  X\^I.,  and  the  martyred  Marie 
Antoinette ;  and  also  the  departed  glory  of  the 
regime  of  the  Stuarts,  the  hopes  of  the  clans  in  the 
Highlands.  He  meditated  a  few  moments  upon  the 
tragedies  and  sorrows  forever  associated  with  the 
thrifty  flozi'cr  dc  luce:  then  soberly  continued  his 
quest  for  Ruth,  carrying  in  his  hand  a  long-stemmed 
white  blossom  he  had  gathered  from  the  mass  ad- 
joining the  circular  bed. 

He  found  her  easily.  She  was  kneeling  by  the 
hedge  of  broom  flaming  brilliantly  with  bright, 
yellow  spikes  of  clustered  blossoms.  She  was  busily 
prodding  the  dark  mould  sustaining  the  hedge,  nutri- 
tively, with  an  oval-pointed  trowel.  A  watering-pot 
stood  near,  and  there  was  a  limpid  touch  to  the 
atmosphere,  an  earthly  smell  pervading  the  vicinity. 
She  was  robed  in  thin,  sheer,  black  material,  her 
bright  head  bare  and  glistening  as  a  silky,  golden 
crown.  Her  arms  were  also  bare  to  her  elbows,  her 
white  hands  stained  from  contact  with  the  damp  soil. 
She  glanced  around  when  she  heard  his  footsteps, 
then  sprang  erect  in  a  movement  of  surprise  and 
pleasure. 

"Oh,  it  is  you,  Donald  !     Now,  really !"  she  cried. 


274  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

coming  to  meet  him  with  outstretched  hands,  which 
she  withdrew  before  he  could  grasp  them.  "I  am 
sorry,  but  I  cannot  give  you  my  hand,"  she  said 
simply,  meeting  his  glance  bravely  and  candidly. 

The  shadow  of  her  recent  bereavement  lay  deep 
in  her  dark  eyes,  washed  clear  of  every  alloying 
medium  by  the  crystal  floods  of  an  overflowing  grief. 

"Poor  little  Ruth,"  he  murmured,  with  sincere 
commiseration.  Her  lips  quivered  like  a  grieving 
child,  so  she  just  stood  before  him,  the  image  of 
acute  but  resigned  sorrow  in  which  no  thought  of 
self  intruded;  self  had  been  forgotten  when  she 
had  gone  with  Jean  and  Angus  to  the  very  verge  of 
eternity's  realm,  where  with  all  her  strength  she  had 
held  Jean  back  when  Angus  had  passed  into  un- 
broken sleep. 

She  wished  to  tell  Donald  all  about  that  heart  re- 
forming experience ;  dear  Donald,  who  had  always 
been  so  strong  and  helpful,  so  willing  to  aid  even 
unexpressed  wishes.  With  an  eloquent  gesture  she 
piloted  him  to  one  of  the  many  rustic  seats  she  had 
placed  in  shady  nooks. 

'T  had  grown  so  fond  of  him,  Donald ;  it  was  such 
a  comfort  to  have  his  strength  and  wisdom  to  guide 
and  sustain  me,  that  now  I  feel  I  am  as  a  rudderless 
ship  on  the  chartless  sea  of  time,"  she  said,  with 
filial  reverence  and  sincere  sorrow. 

"You  have  my  full  sympathy,  Ruth,"  he  replied, 
simply,  his  features  serious  and  compassionate  in 
expression. 

'T  see  you  have  a  flower  de  luce  blossom ;  I  plant- 
ed them  as  a  tribute  to  his  memory.  That  last  day 
he  said  to  me  when  spent  with  his  great  suffering, 


A     DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  275 

'I  am  so  tired,  Ruthie,  so  tired,  I  think  I  shall  be  at 
rest  and  peace  very  soon,  and  it  will  be  so  sweet  to 
go  to  my  ain  countrie.  When  you  come  into  the 
inheritance  I  shall  leave  to  you,  you  must  not  for- 
sake the  things  our  forefathers  loved  and  cherished, 
and  we  have  ever  held  sacred.  You  must  be  your 
own  pathfinder,  though,  that  you  may  honor  and  up- 
lift, edify  it  may  be,  the  Scottish  zeal  of  patriotism 
for  all  that  pertains  to  their  ancient  race  and  history.' 

"He  said  other  things,  too,  Donald,  that  I  shall 
always  remember  and  obey.  He  imposed  such  trust 
upon  me  I  wonder  where  he  found  the  courage  or 
the  encouragement  to  so  estimate  my  ability.  One 
thing  he  said  touched  me  more  than  any  other ;  and 
that  was  to  never  disregard  sickness,  pain  or  sorrow, 
but  to  do  all  I  could  to  alleviate  it.  His  own  suffer- 
ings rendered  him  thoughtful  and  tender.  Oh,  he 
suffered,  Donald,  and  was  so  tired,  so  very  tired,  I 
felt  it  wrong  to  grieve,  but  I  cannot  help  it,"  she 
concluded,  a  shower  of  tears  streaming  over  her 
cheeks  and  splashing  upon  her  soil-stained  hands. 

Donald's  own  eyes  grew  limpid  in  sympathy  with 
her  grief,  so  spontaneous  and  sincere,  evincing  that 
her  heart  was  dissolved  in  unavailing  regret  for  the 
dear,  indulgent  uncle  who  was  the  last  tie  between 
her  and  the  mother  she  could  not  remember.  So 
deep  and  so  poignant  were  the  memories  she  re- 
tained of  her  lost  relative,  they  had  changed  the 
whole  tenor  of  her  life,  her  ambitions;  the  serenity 
and  piety  of  her  girlhood  had  returned  as  a  prodigal 
who  had  wandered  afar  to  be  despoiled  and 
humiliated. 

She  had  gone  to  the  kirk  regularly,  when  Jean 


276  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

had  so  improved  that  she  could  leave  her  to  the  care 
of  Alary  and  Dicey.  The  first  time  she  had  occupied 
the  AlacKenzie  pew,  she  had  broken  down  and  wept 
throughout  _  the  service,  not  alone  grieving  for 
Angus,  but  in  ruthless  repentance  and  remorse,  that 
she  had  been  so  selfishly  immersed  in  her  own 
grievances,  so  bitterly  alienated  from  the  sweet, 
normal  communion  of  home  and  kirk.  The  Gaelic 
congregation  had  mourned  with  her,  and  after  the 
services,  they  had  pressed  to  her  side  with  sincere 
and  kindly  sympathy  beaming  upon  their  rugged 
features  as  they  greeted  the  "fair  AlacKenzie."  It 
had  been  the  happiest  and  the  saddest  hour  she  had 
known  in  the  tempestuous  years  of  her  absence  from 
the  kirk ;  and  thus  she  had  found  potent  consolation 
and  the  pensive  realm  of  pious  resignation. 

Since  then,  she  had  been  content  to  plan  for  a 
definite  sojourn  at  Kissic-Dale,  to  consecrate  her  life 
to  its  interest,  unreservedly.  She  had  devoted  all 
her  leisure  from  other  duties  to  caring  for  the 
flowers  now  that  Jean's  weakness  prevented  her 
from  any  active  oversight  or  labor. 

_  Donald  drew  her  on,  that  she  might  express  her 
views  and  plans  for  the  future.  He  studied  every 
intonation,  every  gesture,  every  emotion,  with  the 
keen  analysis  of  a  vital  interest,  as  if  he  was  waiting 
for  a  rendered  verdict  which  might  change  his  entire 
future,  yet  he  was  careful  to  veil  the  ardor  of  his 
regard,  _  and  she  had,  apparently,  forgotten  his 
declarations  at  the  seaside;  and  he,  long  ere  then, 
had  realized  that  his  precipitate  conduct  then  was 
unwise  and  premature,  and  he  had  conceived  a  dif- 
ferent plan  to  win  her  love  and  efface  his  unfortu- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  277 

nate  blunder.  Finding  her  so  domesticated  at  home, 
the  scene  of  the  inception  of  his  love  for  her,  seemed 
to  place  them  upon  the  hither  side  of  four  eventful 
years  which  had  been  as  rock-ribbed  barriers,  shield- 
ing her  from  the  presumption  of  his  hopes. 

Life,  even  in  its  happiest  phases,  is  an  analogy  of 
shifting  sand-dunes,  which  the  gales  of  circum- 
stances demolish  and  rebuild  constantly  with  the  un- 
stable stratas  of  mutable  changes  and  emotions ;  and 
the  sum  of  each  cycle  of  experiences  weights  the 
heart  with  memories  that  trace  their  influence  in 
mystic  lines  upon  the  countenance ;  Ruth's  expres- 
sion was  a  spiritual  pensiveness  devoid  of  its  sim- 
plicity, her  serious,  soulful  eyes  no  longer  held  the 
obvious  query  seen  in  infantile  solemnity ;  Donald 
was  more  stalwart  in  figure,  more  commanding  in 
manner. 

His  blonde  hair  had  thinned  above  his  temples,  his 
mobile  lips  fell  unawares  into  the  masterful  curve 
of  dictatorial  authority ;  his  voice  deeper,  and  of 
harsher  note,  yet  thrilled  with  gentle  cadences  as  he 
bent  his  head  to  question  or  to  heed  what  she  was 
saying. 

"You  seem  to  have  altered  this  sequestered  nook 
immensely,"  he  remarked,  as  they  were  leisurely 
walking  toward  the  house.  Ruth  had  at  last  remem- 
bered his  long  and  early  drive,  therefore  his  need 
of  rest  and  refreshment;  also  that  she  was  not  ex- 
actly tidy.  She  swept  the  environment  with  an  affec- 
tionate glance. 

"I  have  learned  to  like  it  so  much  since  I  realized 
the  romance  and  interest  attaching  to  even  the 
humblest  of  the  things  growing  here ;  their  roots 


278  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

reach  down  through  more  than  a  century  of  heroism, 
of  trials  bravely  borne,  of  unquenchable  faith  and 
patriotic  zeal.  It  has  been  my  salvation,"  she  de- 
clared, wistfully. 

"In  what  way,  Ruth?"  he  asked,  puzzled  and 
probing. 

"It  has  presented  me  with  a  mission,  a  work  to 
accomplish,  an  excuse  for  living.  Donald,  I  enjoyed 
the  trip  to  Europe  so  much ;  it  reinstated  life  for  me. 
I  believe  a  kind  Providence  has  directed  my  foot- 
steps and  made  me  realize  that  the  world  is  not  a 
fleeting  show,  if  the  great  plan  of  creation  is  rightly 
understood.  The  trouble  with  me  had  been  that  I 
felt  too  much  my  individual  importance ;  now  I  know 
that  I  am  but  an  insignificant  unit  in  the  Omniscient 
plan  ;  it  has  taught  me  humility ;  that  every  creature, 
irrespective  of  condition,  is  a  necessary  atom, 
nothing  more  nor  less  in  the  grand  scheme  of  uni- 
versal creation." 

"I  have  always  felt  that  responsibility  had  de- 
scended upon  you  in  too  concentrated  quality  for 
you  to  be  normally  happy.  I  have  always  feared 
that,  Ruth,  even  in  the  inception  of  our  acquaint- 
ance, when  your  aunt  defined  my  duties  as  your 
tutor  and  explained  the  standard  by  which  your 
studies  should  be  regulated.  It  has  been  as  I  feared, 
you  have  not  known  even  moderate  happiness,"  he 
remarked,  judicially. 

She  lifted  her  glance,  with  a  startled  swiftness. 
"You  are  mistaken.  Aunt  Jean  has  done  much  to 
ensure  me  normal,  care-free  happiness;  it  would 
break  her  heart  if  she  was  convinced  to  the  con- 
trary, and  yet  Uncle  Angus  gave  me  most  comfort 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  279 

and  strength ;  I  owe  him  a  great  deal  for  his  advice 
and  help  these  later  years,  you  can  never  know  how 
much,  Donald,  and  I  will  repay  it  all  to  his  memory, 
if  I  am  spared  to  do  so.  With  the  austere  consecra- 
tion of  a  vestral  priestess,  I  will  keep  alight  the  altar 
fires  in  the  temple  of  my  J\Ianes;  and  with  that  in 
mind  I  trod  the  sacred  scenes  of  storied  Scotland 
and  beheld  the  beauties  of  Lochs  and  Braes,  of 
heathery  moors  and  fir-clad  hills;  with  dedicatory 
ecstasy,  I  gazed  upon  my  own  reflection  in  the  azure 
waters  of  Loch  Katrine  of  Loch  Etive  and  Ericht, 
of  Loch  Achray  and  Lomond,  and  wandered  over 
hills  and  vales  where  our  ancestors  had  flourished 
and  lived  their  full  historic  and  romantic  lives.  Aunt 
Jean  made  quite  a  ceremony  of  laying  a  wreath  of 
holly  and  pine  upon  the  hallowed  shrine  in  the  kirk- 
yard  at  Milton,  Uist,  Uncle  Angus  assisting,  and 
they  each  appealed  to  me  to  realize  the  significance 
of  the  heroine's  courageous  behavior,  the  influence 
of  that  tragical  leaf  in  the  Highland's  history,  upon 
my  own  life  and  the  Hves  of  my  ancestors.  I  hope 
some  day  to  portray  my  impressions  upon  canvas 
that  they  may  be  preserved  and  adorn  the  walls  of 
Kissic-Dale,  as  souvenirs  of  Scotland  and  its  ancient 
civilization  ;  and  thus  to  submerge  the  egotism  of  my 
youth  in  the  overwhelming  cataclasm  of  bygone 
centuries  and  find  an  interest  that  will  please  Aunt 
Jean  and  confirm  the  memory  of  Uncle  Angus,"  she 
concluded,  as  she  stood  in  the  rose-arched  gateway 
and  swept  with  pensive  vision  the  scene  where  every 
shrub  and  tree  bore  a  loved  individuality. 

In  her  black  robes,  her  velvety,  rose-tinted  com- 
plexion and  exquisitely  molded  features,  gleamed  as 


280  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

a  clear-ciit  cameo  intensely  relieved  by  its  settings. 
They  had  detoured  far  from  the  straight  course  to 
the  house,  unconsciously.  Donald  lifted  from  the 
gate  an  old  white  sunbonnet  of  hers  that  aroused 
tender  remembrances  in  his  bosom.  He  was  sure 
that  it  was  one  she  used  to  wear  to  the  schoolhouse 
over  in  the  eastern  forest. 

'Tut  it  on,  Ruth,"  he  requested,  boyishly.  "Oh, 
do,  please,  for  the  sake  of  Auld  Lang  Syne !" 

She  smiled  for  the  first  time,  a  swift,  spontaneous 
smile,  but  meeting  the  flaming  ardor  of  his  glance  his 
laughing  request  had  not  revealed,  she  flushed  in 
sudden  remembrance  of  their  last  interview  that 
August  night,  "after  the  ball  was  over."  He  bit  his 
whitening  lips,  and  sharing  her  sensitiveness,  walked 
ahead,  swinging  the  bonnet  by  its  long  streamers,  in 
a  way  so  peculiarly  his  former  manner;  she  fol- 
lowed, silent  and  retrospective,  an  indefinite  awe 
thrilling  her  vaguely. 

That  evening,  as  they  lingered  on  the  veranda 
after  Mary  had  assisted  Jean  to  her  room,  the  har- 
vest moon  arose  in  all  its  semi-annual  pomp  and 
efl^ulgence;  white  mists  wreathed  the  valley,  the 
mocking-birds  trilled  drowsily,  the  whip-poor-wills 
cried  in  the  distant  wheat  fields,  an  intangible,  sigh- 
ing whisper  floated  in  from  the  surrounding  forest, 
the  fragrance  of  roses  weighted  the  atmosphere, 
freighted  with  lily  and  magnolia  incense.  There  had 
been  entertainment  in  the  parlor,  Jean  and  Donald 
essaying  some  of  their  former  music,  and  Ruth  had 
played  tirelessly  and  brilliantly  as  long  as  they  re- 
quested the  diversion  of  her  performance ;  but  a 
shadow  had  gloomed  their  bravest  efforts.    The  new 


'  A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  281 

grave  at  the  kirk  and  Jean's  travail  of  affliction 
could  not  be  forgotten,  and  it  had  been  a  relief  to 
repair  to  the  veranda,  where  the  balmy  tide  of  dew- 
drenched  zephyrs  swept  them  with  a  welcome  re- 
freshment. 

Left  together,  an  awkward  silence  lasted  indefi- 
nitely, while  thought  imposed  a  quietude  into  which 
the  shine  of  the  moon,  the  pensive  voices  of  the 
summer  night,  the  whisper  of  the  breeze  and  the 
flower  fragrance  intruded.  Ruth  was  the  first  to 
speak,  and  she  asked  a  question. 

"Do  you  feel  old,  Donald?"  she  inquired,  plain- 
tively, a  note  of  irritable  feeling  burdening  her 
tones. 

"Well — er — not  very,"  he  replied  vaguely.  "Do 
you?"  he  counter-queried,  lifting  his  thoughts  from 
a  dreaming  revery. 

"I  feel  like  the  ancient  of  days,  sometimes,"  she 
exclaimed,  rebelliously.  "As  if  I  had  lived  one 
entire  life ;  that  I  have  approached  and  gone  beyond 
the  confines  of  one  existence !  It  is  a  very  lonely, 
unpleasant  sensation,  I  assure  you !" 

"Well?"  Donald  interrogated,  exploitingly. 

"I  feel,"  she  confessed,  groping  for  a  lucid  ex- 
pression for  ideas  she  had  not  voiced  previously, 
"that  my  primal  self  is  annihilated,  that  it  disap- 
peared in  a  chaos  of  happenings;  my  present  self 
seems  to  hold  no  relation  to  it.  Why  is  it  so, 
Donald  ?" 

He  studied  her  profile  outlined  and  obvious  on  the 
glow  of  silvery  moonlight.  "I  guess  it  is  the  result 
of  transplantation  from  a  lengthy  and  methodical 
routine ;    of    belated    entrance    into    an    unfamiliar 


282  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

realm.  In  the  future,  perhaps,  you  will  fall  into  ac- 
customed grooves  again,  and  you  will  be  in  affinity 
with  your  mode  of  environment  and  regain  poise  of 
mind  and  memory,"  he  suggested,  logically. 

"I  do  not  know;  I  lose  myself  so  easily  and  the 
past  sinks  so  mysteriously  from  my  grasp,  taking  a 
part  of  myself  with  it  into  the  voidless  abyss.  Even 
now,  my  time  at  school  and  the  months  spent  abroad 
are  receding  swiftly  from  my  mind  and  I  stand 
pauperized  at  the  threshold  of  an  unknown,  untried 
future.  Oh,  how  I  shall  miss  Uncle  Angus,  and 
suffer  through  Aunt  Jean's  weakness.  Do  you  think 
she  will  ever  entirely  recover,  Donald?  Do  you 
think  I  can  keep  her  with  me  until  I  am  more  able 
to  endure  life  alone  and  uncounseled  ?" 

"I  hope  so.  She  is  yet  in  middle-age  and  may  re- 
gain her  strength,  but  Ruth,  you  will  never  be  left 
entirely  alone  while  I  live,  for  I  live  but  to  serve 
you,"  he  asserted  with  a  brave  timidity. 

"Thank  you,  Donald,  but  you  have  your  own  aims 
and  duties  to  consider,"  she  replied  discouragingly. 

He  remained  silent  and  she  gazed  abroad  into 
celestial  spaces  where  the  moon  sailed  the  silvery 
depths  of  a  luminous  azure  sea ;  soft,  fleecy  clouds 
drifted  and  intervened,  intensifying  the  distance, 
contrasting  purely  the  warm  radiance  of  the  splen- 
dor of  moonlight  and  the  cool  luminosity  of  silvery 
space. 

Donald,  at  last  conqueror  in  a  struggle  for  repres- 
sion of  that  which  he  so  ardently  wished  to  utter, 
spoke  finally  and  irrelevantly:  "And  you  will  not 
return  to  your  studies?  You  have  decided  to  settle 
down  at  home,  definitely?" 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  283 

"I  suppose  so.  You  see,  Aunt  Jean's  state  of 
health  renders  any  other  plan  futile  and  ungrateful," 
was  the  reply. 

"But  what  can  you  achieve  here,  aside  from  the 
filial  devotion  to  your  aunt?  You  will  be  literally 
buried  alive ;  you,  with  your  beauty  and  talents.  I 
thought  you  had  seen  enough  of  the  world  to  make 
you  abhor  the  eventless  existence  of  life  in  these 
pine  lands?" 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  desire  for  any  other  exist- 
ence now,"  she  replied,  sadly,  and  the  dispassionate 
mood  of  her  ambitions  were  mirrored  in  the  wan 
mysticism  of  her  expression  which  the  moonlight 
revealed,  faithfully  and  aloofly. 

"Poor  little  Ruth,"  he  cried,  pityingly,  and  then 
was  thoughtfully  silent. 

"I  shall  not  live  idle,  Donald,"  she  protested.  "I 
shall  not  abandon  my  studies ;  I  shall  have  teachers 
if  I  need  them.  I  shall  relieve  xA.unt  Jean  of  re- 
sponsibility here.  I  shall  spend  my  leisure  enhanc- 
ing the  only  home  I  have,  or  ever  shall  know,  per- 
haps, and  will  endeavor  to  do  as  much  as  I  can  to 
infuse  life  and  Christianity  in  this  isolated  region. 
And  do  not  people  outgrow  unhappiness,  even  as 
they  slip  so  easily  from  happiness  and  felicity?  It 
would  be  too  cruel  if  only  happiness  could  take  to 
itself  wings  and  we  could  not  escape  sorrow ;  joy 
vanishes  as  a  bubble  explodes,  surely  sorrow  must 
have  a  surcease?  I  will  try  the  life  here,  do  all  I 
can  to  render  it  tolerable  and  useful  to  others,  but  I 
do  not  know,  Donald,  the  future  seems  terribly 
lonely  at  times." 

"I  long  for  the  future;  I  pant  for  the  fray  of  its 


284  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

battles,"  he  declared  with  a  sudden  excitement  of 
aroused  ambition.  "To  me  it  is  a  Beulah  Land,  the 
abode  of  a  Fata  Morgana,  who  woos  me  irresistibly ! 
But,"  his  voice  softened  and  fell  into  pleading 
cadences,  "every  hope  centres  upon  you,  every  ambi- 
tion ;  without  the  hope  of  winning  you  it  would  be  a 
Dead  Sea  of  indescribable  tameness.  I  pray  for  the 
lyre  of  Orpheus  to  enchant  you  with  its  magic,  if 
my  mortal  charms  and  persuasion  cannot  win  you." 

"Do  not  say  such  things,  Donald.  They  sadden 
me,"  she  said,  after  a  breathless  moment  of  dis- 
couragement and  pain. 

"I  must,  Ruth,  although  I  grieve  to  cause  you  a 
moment  of  discomfort  or  pity  for  my  unappreciated 
devotion."  He  leaned  wearily  against  a  fluted 
column,  seeing  yearningly  the  pale,  pensive  beauty  of 
her  countenance,  the  charm  that  had  ever  so 
enamored  his  heart.  She  sat  dumb  and  miserable, 
friendship  and  liking  fighting  aganist  an  instinctive 
repugnance  to  Donald's  persistent  wooing. 

Noting  her  dejection,  he  murmured :  "Excuse  me 
for  teasing  you,  Ruth.  It  is  quite  unpardonable  in 
view  of  what  you  have  had  to  bear  so  recently.  I 
will  retire,  if  you  give  me  permission?" 

"As  you  please,  Donald.  I  am  quite  accustomed 
to  sitting  out  here  alone,"  she  returned,  listlessly, 
depressed  with  the  reflection  that  she  had  unavoid- 
ably wounded  and  humiliated  him. 

For  a  long  time  after  he  had  gone  up  stairs,  she 
remained  there  in  the  moonlight,  her  eyes  upon  the 
landscape,  where  the  white  mists  trailed  in  shining 
wreaths  and  Holly  Creek  sang  in  gurgling  murmurs, 
while  the  fireflies  flitted  intermittently  as  phantom 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  285 

lights  estray  from  the  fireside ;  and  the  forest  sighed 
with  fretting  needles.  The  glowing  moon  rose  higher 
and  sent  shafts  of  its  blinding  efifkience  full  upon  her 
face,  her  golden  hair  and  black  dress. 

"  ....     I  shall  be  content  to  stay 
Where  the  ghosts  of  dead  years 
Wander    through    the    halls    of    yesterday," 

she  reflected,  decisively. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Immigrants — The  Stranger  at  the  New 
Camp — The  Dawn  of  Another  Day. 

"For  human  passions  all  have  stirred  my  mind. 
Have  held  me,  now  I  feel  and  know — 
None  can  surpass  sweet  charity." 

"What  is  it  in  his  frank,  young  face, 
Which  more  than  beauty  more  than  grace. 
Holds  in  its  warm  and  strong  control 
The  instinctive  homage  of  my  soul?" 

— Selected. 

Midway  from  Kissic-Dale  and  the  nearest  railroad 
station,  a  large  sawmill  plant  had  been  recently  lo- 
cated in  the  heart  of  a  vast  tract  of  long-leaf  pines. 

Since  the  time  when  Henry  Stevenson  and  Edwin 
Phillips  had  delved  in  turpentine  and  lumber,  many 


286  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

such  distilleries  and  mills  had  been  planted  in  the 
territory  so  prolific  in  unworked  forests,  and  follow- 
ing those  industries  were  numerous  workmen  and 
capitalists,  forced  to  endure  varied  hardships  in  the 
unavoidable  conditions  attending  their  ventures. 

They  had  felled  the  imposing  forests  leaving  the 
pines,  plumed  crowns,  which  had  waved  in  the 
breezes  of  centuries,  to  decay  where  they  had  fallen ; 
and  summer's  suns  scorched  and  winter's  rains 
deluged  them;  then  from  their  funeral  pyres,  an 
avenging  demon  had  crept  forth  to  poison  the  veins 
of  their  destroyers. 

They  had  named  it  "pine  fever,"  but  it  embodied 
all  the  symptoms  of  malignant  malaria.  The  ex- 
posure in  their  thin  shanties,  their  restricted  fare 
and  the  monotony  of  their  labor  and  lives,  were  pro- 
lific agents  in  inviting  disease  and  aggravating  ordi- 
nary ills.  Then,  falling  trees  and  limbs  killed  and 
wounded  them,  logs  crushed  and  mules  kicked  them, 
rendering  blows  almost  as  fatal  as  when  boilers  ex- 
ploded carrying  death  and  mangling  into  their  ranks 
wholesale ;  indeed,  so  numerous  and  importunate 
were  their  misfortunes  their  Gaelic  neighbors 
prophesied  their  annihilation  in  some  fell  sweep  of 
their  shocking  tragedies. 

The  summer  three  years  previous  to  the  locating 
of  the  mill,  when  Ruth  renewed  her  allegiance  to  the 
old  home  and  kirk,  she  was  informed  of  the  con- 
ditions of  the  constantly  increasing  numbers  of 
strangers  in  that  vicinity,  and  painfully  impressed  by 
an  incident  of  a  young  fellow  who,  crazed  by  fever, 
had  wandered  into  the  woods  and  died  ere  he  could 
be  located.     He  and  a  partner  of  his  were  working 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  287 

a  small  orchard  of  turpentine  trees,  and  each  had 
been  ill  with  no  one  to  attend  them ;  and  from  that 
time  Ruth  had  done  all  she  could  to  alleviate  the  dis- 
tresses of  the  followers  of  the  mills  and  distilleries. 

She  had  become  accustomed  to  the  austere  con- 
ditions of  their  settlements,  unstable  and  crude  in 
their  transitory  usefulness ;  and  to  seeing  heavily 
laden  wagon  and  cart  tires  miring  through  the  sand 
and  crushing  the  brown  layers  of  needles  sown  end- 
lessly over  the  sandy  soil.  She  was  familiar  with 
the  shrieking  and  screaming  sawmill  whistles  and 
the  buzzing  of  saws  cutting  the  hearts  of  forest 
giants ;  and  with  the  interior  of  scantily  furnished 
shanties  and  the  pathetic  element  which  mostly  ruled 
the  lives  they  sheltered. 

Her  own  life  and  home  were  so  luxurious  in  their 
vivid  contrast  to  the  parsimonious  details  of  those  of 
the  strangers,  she  was  ever  ready  to  respond  to  the 
least  known  need  of  their  lives ;  therefore,  one  Sep- 
tember afternoon  it  happened  that  she  was  at  this 
mill  in  a  stylish  surrey  drawn  by  two  sleek-coated 
horses  driven  by  David,  arrayed  in  a  brown  livery, 
ornamented  with  gilt  braid  and  brass  buttons,  and 
wearing  a  silk  hat  and  brown  gauntlets. 

With  upright  dignity  and  patient  care,  he  guided 
them  through  the  log-tangled,  lumber-heaped  mill- 
yard  of  "Sears  and  Thayer,"  capitalists  of  a  recent 
firm,  which  had  bought  out  the  interests  of  several 
smaller  firms  and  consolidated  them  into  that  large 
and  modernly  equipped  industry.  Among  their  em- 
ployes were  many  who  had  been  at  mills  nearer 
Kissic-Dale,  and  that  was  why  Ruth  had  beside  her, 
prone  upon  a  cot,  resting  on  the  seats  of  the  vehicle. 


288  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

a  young  girl  whose  cheeks  were  flushed  with  fever. 
She  was  the  thirteen-year-old  daughter  of  Joyce 
Allan,  a  most  worthy  man,  and  the  firm's  skillful 
sawyer,  who  had  lost  his  wife  a  few  months 
previous. 

He  walked  beside  the  vehicle,  holding  his  daugh- 
ter's hand  and  apologizing  to  Ruth  for  imposing  the 
care  of  his  child  upon  her,  his  little  housekeeper,  the 
caretaker  of  his  two  younger  children. 

"Oh,  do  not  worry,  please,  Mr.  Allan !"  Ruth  en- 
treated him.  "I  assure  you  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to 
us  all ;  Aunt  Jean  and  Alary  will  be  glad  to  nurse 
her,  and  their  skill  is  almost  more  certain  than  a 
physician's  with  this  kind  of  a  fever." 

"I  know !  I  know !  Who  could  be  more  con- 
vinced of  your  kindness?  That  is  why  I  presumed 
to  send  for  you.  I  just  couldn't  bear  the  idea  of 
letting  her  suffer,  and  perhaps  die  like  her  mother." 

"You  did  quite  right  to  send  for  me.  You  should 
have  sent  the  first  day  she  was  ill ;  that  is  the  only 
censure  I  feel  for  you,"  she  responded  with  sincere 
utterances,  as  she  held,  with  protecting  clasp,  the 
slender  form  steady,  as  the  vehicle  jolted  over  the 
rough,  labor-clogged  route  which  led  by  the  hissing 
tram  engine  where  its  engineer,  the  lumber  boss,  was 
loading  its  train  of  flat  cars  with  lumber. 

Ruth  knew  him  and  bowed  to  him  graciously,  as 
he  stood  with  bare  head  on  the  step  of  the  cab,  as 
she  was  passing.  A  stalwart,  young  stranger  leaned 
negligently  against  the  side  of  the  cab  and  stared 
imbelievingly  and  with  undisguised  surprise  and  ad- 
miration upon  Ruth,  as  the  carriage  swept  by  him 
and  was  soon  hidden  behind  a  great  stack  of  lumber 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  289 

Incidentally,  Ruth's  glance  caught  and  held  for  a 
moment  the  full  gaze  and  meaning  of  his  startled 
scrutiny,  ere  she  was  swept  away  and  impelled  again 
into  the  forest  road,  where  she  bade  adieu  to  the 
anxious  father  and  David  set  a  strenuous  pace  home- 
ward. 

"We  shore  must  git  out  dese  woods  afore  dark !" 
he  exclaimed  to  Ruth,  excusing  his  haste.  "If  we 
don't,  we'll  be  lost,  shore  as  ye're  born !  Dese  mill 
folks  make  er  new  road  every  time  dey  goes  ter  post 
office,  I  jest  believes." 

When  the  brief  twilight  was  draping  the  forest  in 
a  gray  mist  and  pale  moonlight  shimmered  upon  the 
white  sand  and  green,  pine  canopies,  they  emerged 
from  the  unfamiliar  woods  and  came  into  an  old 
country  road,  which  finally  led  them  into  the  king's 
highway,  surveyed  in  good  old  colonial  days,  when 
King  George  ruled  the  colonies  of  exiled  High- 
landers, who  then  spoke  un-Anglicized  Gaelic. 
Straight  as  an  arrow  from  a  strong  bow,  they  sped 
down  the  broad  way  silvered  with  sand  and  moon- 
light and  flecked  with  shadows  of  plumed  pines,  to 
the  little  schoolhouse,  white,  silent,  yet  monumental 
of  the  sweetest  memories  of  her  heart. 

Out  of  its  dimness  and  statuesque  dignity  came 
forth  phantoms  of  those  youthful  days  of  hope  and 
joy,  to  efface  for  the  moment  the  haunting,  perplex- 
ing impression  made  upon  her  mind  by  the  insist- 
ent, frank  scrutiny  of  the  young  stranger  at  the  mill. 
So  warmly  had  stirred  her  heart,  so  free  had  roved 
her  fancy,  as  she  had  been  conveyed  through  the 
solemn  thrall  of  the  night-brooded  forest,  feeling  the 


290  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

mysticism,  once  more,  veiled  in  the  pensive  moon- 
light : 

".      .      .      .     that  glimmered  the  forest  tips, 
And  through  the  dewy  foliage  drips 
In  little  rivulets  of  light. 
Making  the  heart  in  love  with  night." 

Her  emotions  bore  her  eloquent  company  along 
the  way  from  out  the  forest  and  through  the  eastern 
gate,  over  the  bridge,  through  the  orchard,  and  down 
the  cherry  lane  to  the  gate ;  such  youthful  emotions 
she  had  not  experienced  in  the  slow,  creeping  years 
since  that  springtime  when  she  had  awakened  fully 
to  the  heart-life  of  every  soul-endowed  individual. 

Jean  came  out  to  meet  her;  also  Mary  and  Ipho- 
genia,  to  awaken  the  sleeping  girl  and  assist  her  to  a 
room  waiting  for  her  on  the  second  floor  of  the 
brightly  illuminated  mansion. 

When  the  dawn  of  the  following  day  came  tardily, 
and  a  chill  gray  light  crept  through  the  open  win- 
dows to  mingle  with  the  dim  lamp-light  which  illu- 
minated the  chamber  where  she  had  watched  the 
entire  night  beside  the  fever-wrought  child,  Ruth 
arose,  and  leaning  above  the  slumbering  patient, 
listened  enxiously  to  the  regular  breathing  of  the 
girl  unto  whom  they  had  administered  heroic  reme- 
dies during  the  night ;  then  she  passed  her  hand  ex- 
ploringly  over  features  bedewed  with  a  profuse  per- 
spiration. 

With  a  soft  towel  she  gently  dried  the  slumbering 
countenance  and  spread  the  damp,  fair  hair,  so  silky 
and  the  color  of  ripened  wheat,  over  the  pillow  just 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  291 

as  the  sun  fell  in  dancing  waves  upon  the  childish 
features  and  clammy  strands  of  glistening  hair. 

"She  is  such  a  baby !  I  would  so  like  to  kiss  her," 
Ruth  soliloquized,  as  she  gazed  upon  the  face  so  in- 
stinct with  the  dews  of  life's  morning-tide;  but  she 
did  not  bestow  the  kiss ;  rather,  she  moved  around 
to  the  other  side  of  the  bed  and  awoke  Mary  Gra- 
ham, who  had  found  rest  and  repose  in  a  luxurious 
armchair. 

"She  is  much  better,  dearie !"  Ruth  informed 
Mary  in  a  low  tone  of  voice  that  could  not  disturb 
the  invalid.  "And  I  am  aweary,  dearie  !"  she  added, 
sighing  gently.  "My  eyelids  seem  weighted  with 
lotus-petals  and  every  nerve  plaining  for  relaxation." 

Mary  suppressed  a  relaxing  yawn  and  said,  in- 
sistently: "Well,  go  immediately  to  your  room,  and 
I  will  have  your  breakfast  carried  up  to  you ;  you 
cannot  sleep  fasting.  We  will  see  after  Lily;  you 
must  forget  everything  but  your  need  of  rest." 

She  secured  a  fresh  towel  and  took  Ruth's  place 
by  the  bedside,  but  Ruth  loitered  aimlessly,  and 
finally  seated  herself  on  the  sill  of  an  open  window 
and  surveyed  the  glowing  eastern  sky  beyond  the  sea 
of  vapor,  brooding  the  lowlands,  where  the  sun 
poised  in  opalescent  splendor.  The  birds  were  chant- 
ing matin  hymns,  the  forest  glistened  in  the  leyel  rays 
of  the  refulgent  sun  so  newly  returned  frini  its  mys- 
terious journey  to  the  antipodes,  diurnally  recur- 
ring; the  dew  drenched  valley  sparkled  with  points 
of  radiance  gleaming  through  a  soft  veil  of  whiten- 
ing mists.  Her  weary  eyes  brightened  alertly,  as  a 
pure,  strong  shaft  of  sunlight  bathed  her  sensitive 
form  in  its  warm,  caressing  beams ;  she  extended  her 


292  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

arms  to  grasp  its  geniality  and  arose  to  inhale  the 
elixired  limpidity  of  the  atmosphere. 

With  a  desire  so  intense  it  was  a  compelling 
prayer,  she  longed  for  a  hope  as  youthful,  as  sweetly 
inspiring  as  the  fair  promise  of  the  new-born  day. 
She  left  the  window  finally  and  stood  in  front  of  the 
full-length  mirror  on  the  dresser. 

"Dearie !"  she  called  softly  to  Mary,  as  she  scru- 
tinized with  critical  eyes  her  reflection  in  the  mirror, 
*'do  you  not  suppose  the  vestal  priestesses  became,  at 
times,  very  tired  of  feeding  the  sacred  fire  upon  the 
altars  of  Vesta?  You  know  their  term  of  service 
lasted  throughout  all  the  years  of  their  youth;  their 
capacity  for  pleasures.  I  think  they  must  have  pined 
sadly  for  freedom,  for  the  privilege  of  living  the 
destiny  of  other  maidens,  to  say  naught  of  the  nat- 
ural craving  for  communion  with  congenial  spirits 
and  knowing  the  real  life  of  the  world,  the  life  of 
living  men  and  women  who  accomplish  things." 

"Ruthie,"  queried  Mary,  with  concern,  "what  has 
disturbed  you?" 

"I  believe  that  I  am  aging,  dearie;  that  I  am  look- 
ing, as  well  as  feeling,  worn  and  faded,"  Ruth  con- 
fessed, laughing  tremulously. 

"You  are  needing  rest  and  sleep,"  asserted  Mary. 
"Even  children  become  wan  and  haggard  with  the 
lack  of  either." 

"I  will  heed  what  you  say,  immediately,"  Ruth 
returned  docilely ;  then  her  glance  scanned  the  ap- 
pointments of  the  luxurious  room,  to  note  if  it 
lacked  any  comfort  or  necessity.  She  lowered  the 
shades  and  adjusted  the  lace  curtains.  "Kathy  or 
Flora  rnay  come  over  and  assist  in  the  nursing  if 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  293 

you  will  let  them  know,"  she  suggested,  as  she 
slipped  from  the  room  and  closed  the  door  silently. 

Mary  sat  for  some  moments  vainly  pondering 
Ruth's  unusual  demeanor.  She  reflected  that  it  was 
a  natural  sequence  to  the  exacting,  self-imposed 
duties  the  bairnie  had  assumed  for  the  past  three 
years.  That  even  with  willing  service  and  unlimited 
means,  it  had  been  a  strenuous  effort  to  bring  the 
home  to  its  present  artistic  standard  of  comfort  and 
elegance ;  and  then  the  study  of  so  many  branches 
of  art  and  literature,  and  music,  and  her  constant 
philanthropy.  She  and  Jean  had  often  wondered 
where  she  found  the  strength  or  the  inspiration  for 
such  endless  industry. 

When  she  had  entered  her  room,  Ruth  did  not 
immediately  seek  the  repose  she  so  urgently  needed ; 
rather,  she  opened  her  desk  and  selecting  a  letter, 
sh  extracted  the  closely  written  sheets,  bearing  a 
foreign  postmark.  The  letter  was  the  last  she  had 
received  from  Donald,  then  the  popular  president  of 
the  college  he  had  been  associated  with  for  so  many 
years.  He  had  been  abroad  the  entire  summer  and 
Jamie  MacPharland  had  accompanied  him.  For  two 
years  Jamie  had  been  a  student  at  the  college,  and 
Ruth's  lavish  interest  in  the  boy  had  created  the  im- 
pression among  her  neighbors  that  she  was  preparing 
him  to  be  her  heir.  She  had  corresponded  more 
freely  with  Donald  that  she  might  thus  gather  some 
news  of  Jamie  to  assuage  Jean's  and  Kathy's  anxiety 
concerning  their  boy.  That  morning,  though,  she 
skimmed  over  the  lines  relative  to  Jamie  and  came 
to  where  the  phrases  were  personal  to  herself. 

"Are  you  still  spending  your  days  at  Kissic-Dale 


294  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

and  your  strength  for  the  welfare  of  others?  Tell 
me  truly,  Ruth,  do  you  really  enjoy  such  a  life,  or 
have  you  assumed  vows  to  efface  self  altogether? 

"Ruth,  I  have  visions,  vain  ones,  perhaps,  never- 
theless, they  persist  in  haunting  my  thoughts,  in 
thrilling  my  heart  with  life-giving  hopes,  and  span- 
ning my  otherwise  leaden  sky  with  a  rainbow  of 
promise;  and  the  visions,  dearest  one,  are  that  you 
will  cast  your  lot  with  mine  some  sweet  and  blessed 
day;  that  when  you  have  drained  the  cup  of  your 
altruistic  wine  to  its  dregs,  as  I  believe  you  will,  in 
view  of  your  youth  and  love  of  the  things  the  world 
alone  can  give  you,  I  may  reap  the  reward  of  many 
years  of  devotion  and  patience. 

"Otherwise,  why  is  it  that  the  long  waiting  only 
intensifies  the  love  which  had  its  inception  at  a  time 
when  honor  and  conventions  forbade  my  making  the 
slightest  effort  to  win  you?" 

There  were  pages  more,  in  the  same  strain  of 
loyalty  and  ever  increasing  devotion,  which  she  read 
and  re-read  until  the  breakfast  bell  warned  her  to 
appear  in  the  dining  room  ere  her  meal  was  dis- 
patched to  her  room. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Ruth — The  Young  Capitalist — What  the  Lum- 
ber Boss  Said. 

"God  sent  His  messenger  of  faith. 

And  whispered  in  the  maiden's  heart. 
Rise  up  and  look  from  where  thou  art. 
And  scatter  with  unselfish  hands  "* 

Thy  freshness  on  the  barren  sands 
And  solitudes  of  death." 

The  young  stranger  leaning  against  the  car  and 
gazing  with  unmitigated  surprise  upon  the  astonish- 
ing spectacle  of  the  equipage  and  its  beautiful  occu- 
pant tenderly  guarding  the  recumbent  figure  beside 
her  in  the  carriage,  was  further  amazed  at  the  be- 
havior of  Bill  Seaman,  the  rough,  uncouth  man  who 
ran  the  tram  cars  and  supervised  the  placing  of 
lumber  on  the  flat  cars  out  at  the  siding  on  the 
railroad.  Bill  had  bared  his  head  and  bowed  with 
what  grace  he  could  command  to  the  lady,  whose 
appearance  denoted  the  highest  culture  and  social 
position. 

He  continued  to  stare  for  some  moments  at  the 
point  where  the  vision  had  disappeared  behind  the 
great  heaps  of  lumber;  then  he  slowly  brought  his 
abstracted  glance  back  to  the  lumber  boss,  who  was 
replacing  his  shapeless  hat  upon  his  befrowsled  head. 

"Who  is  she,  and  what  does  it  mean  ?"  he  interro- 


296  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

gated  Seaman,  who  shook  his  head  and  waved  aside 
the  question. 

"I  ain't  no  time  to  talk  now,  if  we  get  this  here 
shebang  out  ter  the  siding  ter-night.  I  jest  got  ter 
git  them  niggers  ter  loading.  Look,  will  ye !  I'm 
blamed  if  every  son  er  gun  of  'em  ain't  er  hustlin' 
down  ter  the  mill !  I'm  on  ter  the  game,  too !  See 
you  when  I  git  back,  Mr.  Thayer !"  and  he,  too, 
hustled  down  to  the  mill,  where  nearly  all  the  force 
of  the  yard  were  gathered  in  a  group  around  a 
wheelbarrow. 

Charley  Thayer  wondered  what  was  up,  but  he 
could  not  even  guess.  Since  investing  in  the  plant 
and  assuming  its  oversight  for  his  partners,  who 
were  married  men  and  did  not  care  to  live  away 
from  their  families,  he  had  lived  in  a  crude  hotel  out 
on  the  main  line  of  railway,  near  to  the  siding  where 
cars  were  placed  to  receive  his  lumber,  and  although 
he  made  almost  daily  trips  to  the  mill,  he  knew  very 
little  of  the  social  element  of  the  camp  and  less  of 
the  adjacent  country.  When  Seaman  came  back,  he 
brought  fruit,  peaches,  purple-hued  grapes  and 
mellow  apples,  and  gave  them  to  Thayer. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said,  gratefully.  "And 
now  will  you  tell  me  something  of  this  mysterious 
lady,  and  why  she  came  into  the  camp  and  carried 
away  some  person  in  her  carriage?" 

"It  was  that  gal  Allen  has  been  fussin'  so  'bout 
lately ;  wanted  my  wife  ter  take  care  of  her,  but  she 
wouldn't,  and  I  don't  think  it  was  right  ter  impose 
her  on  Ruth,  either,  God  bless  her  kind  heart,  that 
can't  stand  for  no  one  ter  suffer  an'  not  try  ter 
help  'em." 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  297 

"Did  you  say  her  name  was  Ruth?"  the  listener 
queried. 

"Yes,  Ruth  MacKenzie,  but  ter  us  all  an'  most 
everybody  she  is  just  Ruth,  meanin'  an  angel,  may- 
be; an'  now  jest  let  me  tell  yer,  if  yer  stay  erbout 
here  long,  yer  won't  think  we've  misnamed  her.  Be 
sick,"  he  said,  searching  his  own  experience  for  de- 
scriptive ideas,  "with  this  blasted  pine  fever,  your 
blood  on  fire,  your  tongue  parched  like  er  cracklin, 
millions  of  pains  hiking  around  all  through  every 
inch  of  your  body,  nothin'  but  er  shanty  to  live  or 
die  in,  nothin'  but  er  tin  basin  ter  bathe  your  feet  in, 
the  water  hot  an'  tastin'  like  gunpowder,  not  er  drap 
o'  milk  nor  er  chunk  o'  ice.  nothin'  ter  eat  but  fat 
meat  an'  biscuit  plum  yallow  with  soda,  the  skeeters 
er  bitin'  ye,  the  sun  so  tarnal  hot  it  jest  briles  ye 
through  cracks  in  the  weatherboardin',  an'  ye  so 
tarnal  sick  ye  wish  ye  were  dead,  yet  at  the  same 
time  plumb  scared  ter  death  erfraid  he  would  die, 
not  er  thing  nice  or  comfortin'  about  ye,  your  wife 
sick  an'  one  of  the  childern,  and  every  blamed  nigger 
erfraid  to  come  nigh  ye,  scared  of  the  fever,  which 
ain't  catching  until  ye  have  it  already." 

He  fell  silent  from  sheer  agony  of  the  memory, 
and  for  a  moment  was  lost  in  darkest,  most  depress- 
ing remembrances.  "Why,  jest  ter  git  plumb  crazy 
with  the  misery,  an'  lose  your  senses,  just  like  the 
worst  kind  of  a  nightmare,  in  which  the  house  is 
burnin'  down  on  ye  an'  ye  with  nary  drop  of  water 
ter  put  it  out,  nor  ter  drink  nuther.  an'  then  ter 
wake  up  like,  with  ice  upon  your  head  an'  ye  in  the 
purtiest  room  ye  ever  sot  eyes  on,  lookin'  glasses, 
carpets  an'  fine  curtains,  an'  pictures,  perfume  an' 


298  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

flowers ;  the  cleanest  room,  an'  you  so  clean,  ye  want 
to  be  introduced  to  yourself,  an'  the  sweetest  old 
lady  an'  niggers  wearin'  caps  to  wait  on  ye,  an'  the 
pain  all  gone  an'  some  of  the  weakness,  yerself 
treated  like  er  king  till  ye  are  well  an'  strong — an' — 
er — young  man,  ye'll  alius  take  yer  hat  off  to  Ruth 
after  then,  ye  will,  I  bet  ye !" 

He  screwed  his  eyes  menacingly.  "I  do  be  sorry 
for  any  man  that  didn't  show  her  respect ;  I  wouldn't 
give  that  for  his  life  if  the  men,  black  and  white, 
erbout  here  could  ketch  him.  Why,  when  the  fire 
broke  out  beyond  Gilmour's  mill,  at  Hunt's  sawmill, 
the  wind  drove  it  toards  Kissic-Dale,  an'  there  wa'n't 
er  man  in  this  whole  country  who  didn't  go  there  to 
fight  it,  as  if  their  lives  depended  on  their  keepin'  it 
from  burnin'  up  her  home.  The  wind  blew  like  er 
tarnado,  them  trees  what  had  been  worked  and  were 
caked  in  turpentine,  blazed  like  the  infernal  regions, 
the  dead  trees  flamed  to  the  very  tops^,  an'  were  fall- 
ing every  which  er  way,  the  pine  needles  smoked  like 
er  furnace,  the  shanties  burned  like  tinder;  we  put 
the  women  an'  childern  in  the  pond.  We  done  it, 
by  thunder!  Ye  needn't  grin.  I'm  tellin'  ye  a 
straight  story,  an'  then  some  of  the  little  niggers  got 
burnt;  one  died,  died  at  Kissic-Dale,  the  day  after 
we  put  out  the  fire,"  he  said,  chokingly  and  slowly, 
his  eyes  shining  with  the  remembrance  with  the  re- 
called horror. 

_  He  cleared  his  throat  and  bit  an  apple  as  he  drew 
his  mind  forcibly  from  unpleasant  memories.  "We 
put  that  fire  out,  as  I  said,"  he  bragged,  with  an  as- 
sumption of  levity  that  was  not  sincere,  "if  we  did 
mi'ty  nigh  put  out  our  own  chunks  at  the  same  time. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  299 

My,  how  Ruth  cried  an'  took  on  over  us !  CalHn'  us 
her  heroes  an'  brave,  noble  men,  an'  all  the  fine 
names  ye  could  think  of.  Kissic-Dale  was  like  er 
picnic  for  the  next  fortnight  afterwards,  for  she 
took  in  every  one  that  was  homeless  an'  kept  the 
women  an'  children  there  until  shanties  could  be  built 
for  'em,  giving  things  to  furnish  the  shanties,  an' 
buyin'  close  for  'em,  what  had  lost  all  they  had  to 
wear." 

He  paused  for  breath  and  another  bite  into  his 
apple,  with  one  hand  firmly  grasping  the  throttle 
which  controlled  the  brakes  worked  by  the  negroes 
riding  on  the  loaded  flat  cars,  for  they  were  then  on 
their  way  to  the  siding.  They  flew  down  the  grades 
and  crept  up  the  ascents  similar  to  a  switchback  rail- 
road. Just  then  they  were  nearing  the  crossing  on 
a  country  road,  and  the  small  engine's  whistle 
shrieked  a  warning. 

When  the  crossing  had  been  passed,  the  boss  re- 
sumed the  monologue  of  past  times  in  the  forest. 
"There  is  one  thing  I  want  to  tell  yer,  particularly. 
It  is  'bout  er  feller  that  runu  this  shebang  two  years 
ergo ;  er  good  enough  young  man,  an  engineer,  too, 
for  that  matter.  You  see,"  he  explained  with  un- 
flattering candor,  "they  send  youngsters  here, 
mostly,  for  older  men  won't  leave  the  big  roads. 
Well,  way  back  yonder,  we  were  sawing  the  Mac- 
Intyre's  timber. 

"The  day  he  was  killed  we  was  skootin'  along,  just 
like  we  are  now,  goin'  down  grade  like  the  mischief 
was  after  us,  an'  plumb  in  the  woods,  not  er  track 
of  er  path  erbout,  or  nowheres  nigh  us,  when  er 
scantlin'  broke  an'  went  through  the  cab  like  er 


300  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

cannon  ball.  I  wa'n't  in  here,  or  I  wouldn't  be  here 
now,  tellin'  erbout  it,  ye  may  bet  yer  bottom  dollar. 
It  broke  the  poor  fellow  all  to  pieces  an'  run  the 
engine  offen  the  track,  an'  there  we  were,  couldn't 
move  er  peg. 

"I  sent  the  niggers  through  the  woods  huntin'  help 
an'  for  Ruth.  It  seemed  nobody  ever  would  come  \ 
It  was  miles  ter  Kissic-Dale,  an'  er  great  many  more 
to  er  doctor,  an'  the  niggers  likely  ter  git  lost  an'  find 
nobody  at  all.  The  poor  fellow  began  to  suffer,  an' 
finally  jest  screamed  in  his  agony.  He  prayed  for 
water,  he  prayed  ter  die,  an'  begged  me  to  kill  him ; 
an'  the  blood'  er  streamin'.  his  breast  stove  in.  his 
arms  both  broke  till  the  bones  stuck  out.  It  was 
awfuller  than  I  can  tell  ye.  the  place  so  lonesome, 
the  pines  er  moanin'  an  'er  whisperin',  like  er 
funeral,  until  I  looked  down  the  track  an'  see  Ruth 
ei  comin',  runnin'  like  the  wind  was  er  floatin'  her ; 
there  wa'n't  no  way  of  gittin'  there  ridin'.  She  had 
er  pillow  an'  that  little  chist  she  carries  erbout  with 
her.  She  went  off  somewhere  to  learn  how  to  use 
the  things  in  it  an'  how  to  fix  folks  when  they  are 
wounded.  Her  hair  had  come  down  like  er  yallow 
veil,  she  had  run  so  fast,  an'  when  she  saw  us.  she 
give  er  sorter  cry  an'  ran  faster.  In  er  minute,  she 
was  kneelin'  by  him.  He  knowed  her  an'  gasped  her 
name,  an'  water. 

"My,  how  her  hands  flew  !  She  worked  like  light- 
nin'  as  she  took  out  er  flask  of  cracked  ice  and  water, 
an'  motioned  me  ter  give  it  ter  him.  He  was  shore 
glad  ter  git  it.  In  another  minute  she  had  got  out 
one  of  them  double-barreled  needles,  filled  it  with 
somethin'  from  er  little  bottle  an'  pumped  it  into  the 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  301 

arm  what  was  the  least  broke ;  then  she  fell  ter 
wipin'  off  blood  an'  stoppin'  the  bleedin'  with  ban- 
dages. She  knelt  in  the  blood,  an'  it  streamed  from 
her  lingers,  but  she  did  not  seem  to  know  it.  She 
was  doin  'all  she  could  for  the  poor  boy  who  was 
dyin',  I  believe,  when  she  got  there ;  he  lived  er 
while,  though,  an'  rested  at  last,  jest  like  er  baby 
goin'  ter  sleep  in  er  cradle. 

"She  was  too  late,  or  maybe  nothin'  could  er  saved 
him,  he  was  torn  up  so,  but  I  never  seen  Ruth  look 
as  she  did  when  he  died.  She  was  whiter  than  her 
dress,  her  lips  almos  tas  purple  as  her  eyes,  her 
hands  er  tremblin',  when  he  had  gasped  his  last 
breath. 

"She  stood  up,  but  she  staggered  an'  there  was  the 
quairest  look  on  her  face  as  she  stared  up  through 
the  pine  tops,  away  an'  beyond  them,  clean  into 
heaven,  seemed  ter  me;  an'  I've  always  wondered 
ever  since  what  she  saw,  an'  what  she  was  er  think- 
in'.  She  seemed  to  see  a  vision  or  somethin',  like 
John  did  when  he  wrote  Revelations ;  so  shore  was  I 
that  she  was  er  lookin'  at  some  real  things,  I  looked 
up  myself,  but  I  saw  nothin'  but  the  same  old  sky 
above  the  pines.  When  Sandy  MacPharland  got 
there,  some  time  after  she  did,  he  cut  down  scrub 
oaks  an'  made  er  shelter  ter  keep  the  sun  off  his  face, 
an'  he  tried  ter  help  her.  He  spread  a  handkerchief 
over  his  face  an'  smoothed  the  hair  of  the  dead 
fellow ;  folded  his  hands  upon  his  breast,  an'  then 
led  Ruth  away ;  but  at  the  station,  when  we  sent  him 
home  to  be  buried,  old  David  brought  the  sweetest 
flowers,  maybe  er  bushel  of  'em,  an'  we  put  them 
on  his  coffin." 


302  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

They  were  again  descending  a  grade,  and  the 
engineer's  eyes  dropped  to  his  hands,  as  he  grasped 
the  lever  firmly. 

"I  wish  I  could  know  this  Ruth,  Bill,"  Thayer 
said,  huskily. 

"Ye'U  git  ter  know  her  if  ye  stay  in  these  diggings 
long;  it  is  full  of  trouble  an'  sickness,  an'  where 
them  things  are  ye'll  find  Ruth,  shore,  an'  ye'U  re- 
spect her  next  to  the  church  or  heaven." 

"She  is  marvelously  beautiful ;  if  she  was  out  in 
the  world,  her  face  would  be  her  fortune." 

Bill  snorted  derisively.  "Her  fortune,  indeed ! 
She  don't  need  no  fortune !  She's  done  got  one  big 
one  an'  more  comin'  to  her  when  her  aunt  dies. 
She's  got  er  bank  full  o'  money !  She's  plumb  rich, 
an'  she  she  spends  her  money  like  er  queen,  ain't  er 
bit  stingy,  like  some  er  these  Scotch  folks  livin' 
erbout  here.  She  plants  big  fields  in  vegetables,  jest 
ter  give  erway,  she's  alius  givin'  ter  somebody  an' 
never  slights  nobody,  no  matter  how  poor  an'  mean 
an'  not  worth  anybody's  kindness. 

"Why,  she  even  took  care  of  that  low-down  bar- 
keeper what  come  ter  Craig  Rhonie  jest  ter  sell 
liquor ;  no,  it  was  ter  Abercrombie  that  one  come 
that  she  sent  her  man  Tony  ter  nurse  when  he  liked 
ter  kick  the  bucket  with  the  pine  fever."  Bill 
grinned  with  the  recollection.  He  chuckled  with 
satisfaction  over  some  memory. 

"He  was  er  onery  cuss,  a  mean  one,  there  ain't  no 
doubt.  Put  up  er  little  shanty  an'  filled  it  with  cheap 
whiskey,  mixed  with  concentrated  lye  an'  red  pepper, 
an'  one  pizen  thing  an'  ernother,  an'  then  sot  down 
ter  make  er  fortune.    He  tuned  up  an'  old  fiddle  an' 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  303 

blowed  er  jewsharp  'twist  servin'  drinks,  an'  raked 
in  the  money  from  the  fools  erbout,  till  he  took  the 
fever.  When  he  got  over  it,  for  some  reason  he 
went  ter  church  where  Ruth  keeps  er  Sunday  school 
goin'  all  the  time,  an'  he  heard  her  sing  'The  Holy 
City.' 

"The  very  next  day  he  packed  hisself  off  an'  took 
his  whiskey  with  him.  The  boys  turned  in  an'  fin- 
ished the  job,  set  fire  ter  his  shanty  an'  burned  it  up, 
an'  his  fiddle,  too,  which  he  had  left  or  forgotten. 
He  must  have  took  his  jewsharp  erway,  as  we  could 
never  find  it  when  we  cleaned  up  the  shanty.  Say! 
Ye — ought  ter  go  ter  the  kirk,  as  the  Scotch  folks 
call  it.  You  jest  ought  ter,  ter  hear  Ruth  sing  an' 
play  the  harp  an'  organ  !    It  is  better  than  preachin'." 

Thayer  reflected  for  a  moment.  He  had  intended 
to  go  up  on  the  main  road  to  get  away  from  the  sand 
and  pines,  if  but  for  a  brief  respite  from  their 
monotony,  but  he  said  with  sudden  resolve  and  an- 
ticipation:  "I  will  go  next  Sabbath,  if  I  can  arrange 
to  get  there,  certain." 

"Ye  won't  never  regret  it,"  Bill  assured  him, 
earnestly.  "These  here  woods  won't  never  seem  the 
same  to  ye ;  it  will  feel  more  like  God's  country,  but 
never  like  any  place  ye  ever  knowed.  See  what  I 
tell  ye!" 

One  afternoon,  in  the  midde  lof  the  succeeding 
week  Charley  Thayer  was  again  in  the  cab  with  Bill 
Seaman ;  and  they  ran  along  with  the  usual  varying 
speed  over  the  crude  track  of  scantlings  laid  upon 
the  undisturbed,  ungraded  surface  of  the  sand- 
barred  hills. 


304  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

"Bill,"  he  abruptly  queried,  "how  old  is  Miss 
MacKenzie?" 

"Ruth,  you  mean?"  was  the  reserved,  cool  re- 
sponse. 

"Well,  Ruth,  then.  But  why  you  should  show  her 
so  little  reverence  in  speaking  of  her  so  bluntly  I 
cannot  conceive." 

"It  ain't  disrespect;  it's  somethin'  more  than  re- 
spect, and  it's  the  way  people  call  them  they  like 
erbout  here." 

"Why,  do  you  suppose,  she  has  not  married?  Her 
age  is  a  puzzle  to  me,  too ;  she  could  easily  be 
twenty-five  or  sixteen,  there  is  so  much  youth  and 
innocence  mingled  with  her  mature  dignity." 

"She  ain't  neither  the  one  nor  the  tother,  to  my 
certain  knowledge ;  but  see  here,  young  man.  Ain't 
you  jest — er — er — the  least  bit  too  meddlesome 
about  what  ain't  none  of  ye  bizness?" 

"Don't  be  grumpy.  Seaman.  No  one  could  respect 
Miss  MacKenzie  more  than  I  do,  but  I  cannot  get 
over  the  wonder  of  finding  her  here  and  leading  the 
life  she  does.  She  cannot  find  it  congenial,  and  she 
is  not  the  proper  material  for  martyrdom  or  sacri- 
fice. Every  note  of  her  character  is  a  plea  for  some- 
thing different,  for  that  which  she  can  never  possibly 
find  in  this  backwoods  region." 

Bill's  sensitive  pride  flamed  up  instantly. 

"See  here,  sir!  We  may  not  be  much  on  fixings, 
but  we  aint'  used  to  being  run  down  right  to  our 
faces.  It's  somethin'  Ruth  ain't  done  yit,  and  she 
is  used  to  things  that's  all  right,  ye  bet !  Do  ye 
doubt  it  after  seein'  her  home  so  fine,  with  statutes 
and  all  the  fixin's  anybody  could  have  er  mind  for  ?" 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  305 

"That  is  all  true,  Seaman,  but  I  was  not  thinking 
of  material  things ;  and  I  was  so  surprised  to  see 
how  her  music  affected  you  tough  fellows  out  at 
the  kirk  last  Sabbath.  I  did  not  think  you  were  so 
sensitive  as  to  weep  for  a  hidden  and  mysterious 
sorrow  voiced  in  the  tones  of  Music's  great 
masters." 

"It  wa'n't  er  hidden  sorrow ;  it  was  our  very  own, 
an'  the  whole  world's  sorrow  of  achin'  hearts  an' 
diserp'intments ;  one  lonely  sorrow  or  one  lonesome 
person  wa'n't  er  drap  in  the  bucket  to  the  trouble 
that  orgin  poured  outen  its  bosom  !  Say  !  Ye  know 
what  I  said  erbout  Alan's  kid  ?  I  thought  of  it  when 
I  was  listenin'  to  that  music  an'  felt  meaner  than  a 
yaller  hound  what's  been  stealin'  sheep.  I  wished 
I'd  shown  Allan  more  sympathy;  an'  I  couldn't  help 
thinkin'  maybe  he'd  told  her." 

Just  then  the  engine  took  a  down  grade  and  went 
whizzing  over  the  rails  at  such  a  speed  conversation 
was  impossible ;  and  young  Thayer  leaned  on  the 
rail  of  the  cab  and  held  a  seance  with  the  memory  of 
that  day  at  the  kirk,  when  Ruth  arose  from  the 
organ,  the  captive  of  a  soulful  mood  which  clam- 
ored for  expression. 

"Like  a  lone  shepherd  on  a  promontory. 
Where,  lacking  occupation,  looks  far  forth 
Into  the  boundless  sea  and  rather  makes  than 
finds  what  he  beholds." 

He  alone,  perhaps,  of  all  those  present,  knew  that 
echoes  of  divinely  inspired  creations  interluded  and 
ruled  the  heart  probing  symphony,  or  realized  the 


306  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

culture  portrayed  in  the  rendering  of  echoes  from 
Bach,  Schuman,  from  Wagner,  and  the  upHfting 
charm  of  Haydn's  melting  symphony. 

"Oh,  beauty  of  holiness! 
Of  self-forgetfulness!     Of  lowliness! 
Oh,  power  of  meekness  whose  very  gentleness  and  meek- 
ness 
Are  as  the  yielding  but  irresistible  air," 

he  quoted,  his  eyes  upon  but  not  seeing  the  vistas  of 
forest  along  the  route. 

"What  did  ye  say?"  Bill  said,  quizzically. 

"Oh,  nothing,  my  dear  fellow,"  was  the  breezy 
reply,  which  did  not  convince  the  practical  boss. 

"But  ye  did.  though,"  he  contended,  with  patent 
curiosity. 

Thayer  arose  and  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  if  to 
throw  off  clinging  thought.  "I  am  thinking  of 
taking  pot  luck  with  Allan.  He  has  a  very  good 
cook,  and  I  am  sure  it  will  be  more  convenient  for 
me  to  live  at  the  mill,  from  a  business  standpoint. 
I  want  a  carpenter  to-morrow ;  can  you  tell  me 
where  to  find  one?" 

"I  mought.  Maybe  ye  can  pick  up  one  er-round 
the  station.    What's  ye  goin'  ter  build,  now?" 

"Why,  a  shack  near  Allan,  and  also  a  stable  and 
buggy  shelter.  I  am  going  to  bring  out  my  horse 
and  my  books,  and  with  Allan's  collection  at  hand, 
I  shall  not  lack  for  entertainment  on  long  winter 
nights,"  he  explained,  with  cheery  frankness. 

The  preceding  Sabbath  he  and  Joyce  Allan  had 
gone  out  to   Kissic-Dale  in  a  skeleton  road  cart, 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  307 

drawn  by  a  lazy,  sawmill  mule.  He  had  left  Allan 
with  his  daughter,  and  had  gone  on  to  the  kirk  in 
time  to  hear  Ruth  play  a  recessional  that  would  have 
captivated  an  audience  in  any  city  church,  he  knew. 
Back  at  Kissic-Dale,  he  had  met  Ruth,  and — well — 
he  would  ask  no  greater  fortune  henceforth  than  to 
live  at  the  mill  and  identify  himself  with  every 
object  in  which  she  evinced  an  interest. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The   Confession — The  Vigil   in   the  Forest — ■ 
The  Rune  of  the  Pines. 

"The  spring-time  of  her  childish  years 
Hath  never  lost  their  sweet  perfume, 
Though  knowing  well  that  life  hath  room 
For  many  blights  and  many  tears." 

November's  fitful  days  of  pale  sunlight  or  low, 
trailing,  leaden  clouds,  had  led  to  the  last  bright 
period  of  "Indian  Summer,"  and  the  air  was  so 
tempered  with  a  dry  warmth  pervading  the  chill 
emanations  of  the  cooling  earth,  the  doors  of  a 
shanty,  deep  in  the  heart  of  a  lonely  pine  forest, 
stood  each  ajar,  so  that  the  voices  of  the  night- 
brooded  forest  swept  in  with  every  breath  of  the 
languid  breeze. 

The  weird  sighing  and  whispering  of  the  lithe- 
some pines  had  so  affected  the  nerves  of  Nellie 
Owens,  the  young  mother  of  the  child  in  the  casket 


308  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

reposing  upon  the  white-draped,  flower-crowned 
bier  in  the  centre  of  the  one  room  the  cabin  em- 
braced, she  became  hysterical  with  her  unaccus- 
tomed burden  of  bereavement. 

Ruth  had  been  with  her  all  day.  When  she  came 
in  the  forenoon  on  an  almost  daily  visit,  she  had 
been  so  impressed  that  the  end  of  the  ailing  child 
was  imminent  she  had  tarried  until  the  last  sigh  had 
escaped  over  the  livid  lips  of  the  sufferer,  and  then 
sent  David  home  for  Iphogenia  and  many  necessi- 
ties and  luxuries  the  bare  shanty  did  not  contain. 

The  little  girl  was  the  only  child  of  Sydney  Owens 
and  his  youthful  wife,  and  their  grief  had  been 
heart-rending.  Ruth  had  never  met  a  scene  which 
so  commanded  her  sympathy  and  sapped  the 
strength  of  her  optimism,  as  had  those  hours  of  the 
pallid  winter  day  in  which  she  had  exerted  all  her 
powers  of  consolation  to  woo  peace  and  resignation 
to  the  hearts  of  the  stricken  couple. 

In  the  lonely  hour  of  twilight,  she  had  sung 
hymns  in  low,  persuasive  tones  until  her  voice 
strained  and  refused  to  sound  another  note ;  and  it 
was  then  the  runing  voice  of  the  forest  swept  in 
and  rasped  the  worn-out  nerves  of  Nellie. 

A  night  hawk  hooted  distantly  in  some  dim  depth 
of  the  primeval  woods ;  and  quite  near  a  screech  owl 
plained  with  its  shivering  notes  of  prescient  portent. 

Iphogenia  was  frightened,  and  the  superstition  of 
her  savage  forbears  was  aflame  in  her  tmtamable 
African-tinged  soul.  She  leaned  against  the  rude 
chimney  facing,  and  replenished  the  fire  on  the 
hearth  with  fresh  billets  of  pine.  Ruth,  with  Nellie's 
head  pillowed  upon  her  lap,  met  her  maid's  appeal- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  309 

ing  glances  with  a  reassuring  smile  and  a  bend  of 
her  head  to  indicate  Sydney  Owens,  tramping  the 
dooryard,  restless  with  grief,  who  was  there  to  pro- 
tect them,  if  any  real  danger  menaced. 

When  she  could  bear  no  more  the  night  hawk's 
startling  call  in  the  distance,  or  the  wailing  cry  of 
the  intrusive  screech-owl,  Nellie  implored  Ruth  to 
sing  again;  and  Ruth,  lifting  her  weary  voice, 
crooned  another  hymn,  softly,  pleadingly. 

As  she  sang,  she  stroked  the  bowed  head  of  the 
young  mother,  and  recalled  that  her  own  mother  had 
died  when  she  was  even  more  youthful  than  poor, 
sobbing  Nellie.  How  Nellie  had  loved  her  little  girl ! 
And  she  had  been  deprived  of  that  worshipping 
tenderness  which  a  mother  alone  can  bestow  upon 
her  offspring.  In  her  childhood  days,  when,  at  in- 
tervals, she  had  grieved  inconsolably  for  Jamie,  Jean 
would  give  her  some  photos  to  hold  in  her  hands, 
perhaps  for  hours,  pressing  them  to  her  tiny  bosom 
with  pathetic  affection  and  yearning;  and  one  of 
them  was  of  a  very  young  girl,  with  smiling  lips  and 
wonderful  dark  eyes,  and  it  was  Ruth  Bethune,  her 
own  mother  lying  beside  Jamie  in  the  mystic  realm 
of  the  kirk-yard.  Her  memories  of  Jamie  had  been 
living  ones ;  and  Jamie,  the  slender  youth,  Jamie  as 
a  youthful  cadet  in  formal-fitting  uniform,  Jamie  as 
a  college  student,  a  senior  in  cap  and  gown,  and 
again  in  clerical  attire,  when  he  had  embraced  the 
ministry,  was  her  beloved  and  remembered  father, 
whose  love  and  tenderness  had  gilded  the  first  years 
of  the  morning  of  her  life. 

When  he  had  come  to  Kissic-Dale,  in  a  raging 


310  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

snow  storm,  because  she  was  ill  and  he  would  not 
delay  coming  to  her,  and  had  died  a  few  days  later 
from  the  effects  of  the  exposure,  she  had  been  then 
at  the  age  of  the  little  girl  lying  there  at  rest  beneath 
the  flowers,  which  filled  the  room  with  a  rare,  sweet 
fragrance. 

From  that  point  her  mind  leapt  swiftly  to  a  newly 
born  conception  of  the  circumstances  that  had  dom- 
inated her  career  thus  far;  the  sacrifices  death  had 
imposed  upon  so  many  that  wealth  might  flow  into 
her  listless,  unseeking  hands ;  and  the  fate  which 
had,  compulsorily,  driven  her  into  channels  where 
that  wealth  could  best  be  conserved  for  the  weal  of 
so  many  whose  lot  clamored  for  alleviation. 

From  that  invisible  realm  unto  which  Nellie's 
baby's  spirit  had  flown  that  day,  so  many  chords 
reached  forth  to  entwine  her  heart,  to  govern  her 
ambitions,  to  demand  her  duty  and  consecration  of 
conduct.  She  was  Jamie's  daughter,  the  custodian 
of  the  estate  of  Angus  Bethune,  the  heiress  of  all 
former  MacKenzies,  not  alone  of  their  worldly  pos- 
sessions, but  of  their  pride  of  race  and  idealistic 
honor ;  and  a  daughter  of  the  grand  old  patriots,  the 
martyred  and  loyal  exiled  Highlanders,  who  had 
given  their  all  for  "Bonny  Prince  Charlie ;"  which 
was  but  saying:  had  lain  down  all  of  life  for  the  in- 
tegrity and  freedom  of  Scotland. 

"March!     March!     Ettrich  and  Treviottsdale! 
Why,  my  lads,  do  ye  not  march  in  order?" 

appealed  to  her  conscience  as  an  occult  mandate  de- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  311 

scending  through  centuries  of  steadfast  loyalism  to 
"Wild  dummie  vassals  three  thousands  times  three," 

who  had  cried : 

"Hey,  for  the  bonnets  of  bonnie  Dundee." 

Thus  her  mind  sHpped  from  beneath  the  death 
shadow  hovering  the  room  and  seduced  a  more  com- 
forting spirit  into  the  rendering  of  the  hymn  she 
was  then  singing,  unconsciously. 

Nellie  lifted  her  hand  and  gropingly  pressed  her 
shoulder;  Iphogenia  relaxed  from  the  crouching 
position  by  the  hearth  and  teased  some  fresh,  live 
coals  from  the  fire  to  place  under  the  tea-kettle, 
which  instantly  responded  by  hissing  steam  from  its 
stubby  spout.  Sydney  Owens  ceased  his  aimless 
tramp  of  the  yard  to  seat  himself  on  the  doorsill 
and  imbibe  the  hope  infused  nto  the  minor  melody 
of  the  hymn;  but  with  the  last  note  sung  came  the 
lonely  silence  with  the  inflowing  of  the  shrilling  of 
the  pines,  the  weak,  peevish  plaining  of  the  persist- 
ent screech  owl ;  then  footsteps  sounded  beyond  the 
circle  of  light  cast  by  the  candles'  sensitive  flames 
through  the  doorway,  and,  in  another  moment,  Joyce 
Allan  and  Charley  Thayer  entered,  to  be  welcomed 
by  none  with  more  relief  than  Ruth,  experienced  in 
shifting  the  pathetic  task  of  consolation  upon  less 
sufi^ering  sympathy  than  hers  had  proven. 

Soon  after  their  arrival  she  quietly  left  the  room 
to  cross  the  open  space  before  the  door  and  enter 
the  needle  carpetted  vistas  beneath  the  pines ;  there, 


312  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

through  interlacing  boughs  of  the  trees,  she  gHmpsed 
the  cool,  twinkling  stars  in  their  everlasting  orbits 
in  far  away,  cerulean  spaces,  and  the  whisperings  of 
the  pines  and  the  crying  of  the  owl  no  longer  de- 
pressed her.  Rather,  she  was  disturbed,  heart- 
brokenly,  by  young  Thayer's  presence,  withal  his 
sunny  optimism  in  strength  and  amiableness.  Jean 
had  confessed  to  a  great  liking  for  the  handsome, 
well-groomed  boy,  whose  culture  and  gay,  though 
polished  manners,  held  a  lure  of  the  world  from 
which  their  secluded  lives  were  of  late  so  drearily 
debarred. 

Her  loyal  plaint  that  he  reminded  her  so  much  of 
poor  Edwin  had  only  intensified  the  indefinable  mis- 
trust of  self,  the  emotionless  defence  behind  which 
Ruth  was  fain  to  retreat  when  she  met  him.  And 
she  had  met  him  so  frequently  in  the  few  weeks 
since  she  had  become  aware  of  his  existence,  for  he 
was  now  often  a  guest  at  Kissic-Dale  and  present  at 
the  kirk,  and  happened  at  so  many  places  where 
duty  had  long  been  in  the  habit  of  compelling  her 
attendance.  Just  then,  what  he  personified  to  her 
understanding  was  incompatible  with  and  so  at  vari- 
ance with  the  mood  possessing  her  mind,  she  had 
purposely  escaped  to  regain  a  more  normal  poise  of 
thought  and  the  reserve  and  caution  with  which  she 
invariably  met  his  flame-lit  glances  and  unmistak- 
able devotion. 

His  most  casual  smile  and  gallantry  of  behavior 
had  probed  deep  into  the  tomb  of  her  youthful  hopes 
and  visions,  tearing  apart  the  mantle  of  sorrow  in 
which    she    had    so    envelopingly    shrouded    them; 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  313 

where  from  its  dreary  vault  of  bereavement  her 
heart  had  so  often  cried  in  lonely  pain: 

"Where'er  thy  foot  has  passed  is  holy  ground! 

The  groves  are  sacred! 

I    behold    thee    walking   under   these    trees    where    we 

walked 
In  the  morning  of  thy  youth! 

I  feel  thy  presence  now;  feel  that  the  place  has  taken 
A  charm  from  thee,  and  is  forever  hallowed." 

and  the  sad  runing  of  the  pines  had  ever  appealed 
to  her  as  the  one  consonant  note  in  all  the  universe, 
of  the  human-peopled  world,  with  the  bleak  mono- 
tone of  her  heart's  unavailing  sorrow. 

She  shrank  exceedingly  from  exciting  regard 
where  she  could  not  reciprocate  it.  She  had  suf- 
fered too  excruciatingly,  and  her  sympathy  was  too 
susceptible,  for  her  to  inflict  the  shadow  of  such  a 
pain  upon  any  heart,  wilhngly.  She  had  renounced 
the  world  and  lived  a  recluse,  that  she  might  not  be 
confronted  with  such  crises  as  were  threatened  by 
Charley  Thayer's  persistent  seeking  of  her  company. 

And  again  she  was  vowed  to  Donald ;  inviolably 
sealed  to  him  or  to  definite  celibacy  by  repeatedly 
assuring  him  so  much  of  devotion  in  return  for  his 
heart's  steadfast  loyalty  to  her.  Secretly,  hardly 
acknowledged  by  her  own  sound  common  sense,  she 
was  a  Fatalist  in  belief,  and  felt  that  no  incident 
happened  but  by  predestined,  projected  manoeuvres 
of  a  never-resting  Destiny.  From  the  first  moment 
of  knowing  Charley  Thayer,  she  had,  instinctively, 
perhaps,  regarded  him  as  a  figure  on  the  chessboard 


314  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

of  fate,  and  she  had  experienced  the  occult  divina- 
tion of  a  real  Gaelic  "second  sight"  warning. 

Iphogenia  appeared  in  the  bright  doorway,  peer- 
ing forth  into  the  gloom  so  earnestly,  Ruth  knew 
she  was  uneasy  and  anxious  for  her  return.  Re- 
luctantly she  retraced  her  steps  and  met  Iphogenia 
as  she  was  coming  out. 

"You  said  Mrs.  Owens  must  have  some  tea,  which 
I  am  jest  now  ready  to  make,"  the  maid  said,  diplo- 
matically. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  Ruth  responded,  accepting  the 
explanation  in  apparently  good  faith.  "She  has 
eaten  hardly  anything  at  all  to-day ;  no  wonder  she 
is  nervous  and  distraught  in  the  shock  of  her  grief." 

When  she  entered  young  Thayer  arose  and 
proffered  her  his  chair,  but  she  graciously  declined 
it,  and  set  about  preparing  a  meal  for  the  long-fast- 
ing parents,  who  had  had  no  mind  for  anything  but 
the  loss  of  the  child  throughout  the  day  and  even- 
tide. The  coming  of  friends  had  opened  afresh  the 
wounds  of  their  hearts,  but  Allan  was  succeeding  in 
calming  and  helping  them  to  a  logical  behavior. 

So  when  Ruth  had  opened  the  large  hamper  Jean 
and  Mary  had  dispatched  with  Iphogenia  and  David, 
and  had  extracted  a  teapot  and  a  package  of  tea, 
which  she  delivered  to  the  maid,  and  then  delved  for 
white  napery  to  spread  the  small  dining  table  rest- 
ing against  the  wall  between  the  door  and  hearth- 
stone, and  brought  forth  a  boiled  ham,  pickles  and 
jelHes,  milk  and  butter,  bread  and  cake  and  a  jar  of 
golden  honey,  Allan,  at  Ruth's  invitation,  insisted 
upon  their  dining  with  him  upon  the  delicious  fare 
so  bountifully  provided. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  315 

"Mr.  Allan,"  Ruth  had  entreated,  "persuade 
Nellie  and  Mr.  Owens  to  break  their  fast,  and  then 
induce  them  to  try  to  rest  and  sleep.  Neither  of 
them  has  slept  but  very  little  in  several  nights  to 
my  knowledge,  and  they  will  be  ill  if  they  do  not 
relax  from  the  strain  very  soon." 

There  was  not  space  at  the  table  but  for  three 
plates,  so  Ruth  apologized  to  Thayer,  with  a  promise 
that  she  would  dine  with  him  later.  "I  have  had  no 
supper  as  yet,  so  you  have  come  in  time  to  keep  me 
company  during  the  meal." 

He  smilingly  retreated  to  the  door,  that  Allan 
might  make  use  of  his  seat  at  the  table,  and  the 
novelty  of  the  makeshift  arrangement  caused  him 
to  seek  Ruth's  glance  with  a  quizzical  gleam  of 
humor,  that  he  decorously  suppressed  in  deference 
to  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 

His  seat  in  the  doorway  isolated  him  to  a  degree, 
and  from  that  point  of  vantage  he  listened  to  the 
remarks  at  the  table  and  embraced  Ruth  in  a  search- 
ing if  furtive  scrutiny,  veiled  by  the  urgent  care 
with  which  she  induced  Nellie  and  her  boy  husband 
to  eat  and  drink,  and,  for  a  moment,  experience  a 
blessed  reprieve  from  their  sorrow. 

"Ruth,"  Joyce  Allan  remarked  near  the  close  of 
the  meal,  "Lily  is  worrying  to  see  you  all.  You 
must  drop  in  to  see  her  some  time  when  you  are  out 
in  the  carriage.  She  thinks  you  might  be  offended, 
you  have  avoided  us  so  of  late." 

"Oh,  no,  not  that,  Mr.  Allan!"  Ruth  exclaimed, 
and  then  paused,  visibly  embarrassed,  to  continue 
more  quietly:  "Please  say  to  her  that  when  it  is 
possible  I  will  come  and  bring  as  many  of  my  house- 
hold as  the  carriage  will  contain,"  she  concluded, 
with  a  tremulous  laugh  and  a  rising  color. 


316  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

With  analytical  vision  and  almost  idolatrous 
fascination,  Thayer  caught  the  sensitive  flushes  and 
made  false  auguries  therefrom,  and  noted  the  plain 
but  exquisitely  fitting  black  toilet,  relieved  by  white 
cuffs  and  collar,  and  the  sheening  coils  of  her  golden 
hair  which  framed  her  beautifully  molded  features 
with  a  delicate  aureole  of  silken  waves  sweeping  her 
white  brow  with  careless  grace;  but  with  more  en- 
slaving pleasure  and  a  joy  so  intense  it  embodied 
pain  and  sadness,  he  drank  in  the  beauty  of  her 
dark  eyes  so  instinct  with  a  pensive  humility  and 
the  radiance  of  a  soulful  spirit;  and  the  queenly 
carriage  which  so  inscrutably  commingled  girlish 
innocence  and  the  sophisticated  culture  of  maturity. 
He  gazed  until  his  heart  was  faint  with  its  burden 
of  blissful  desire,  and  he  turned  resolutely  and  set 
his  eyes  upon  the  dim,  shrilling  forest,  that  was 
more  indistinct  than  normal  in  view  of  his  misted 
^ision. 

Afar  off,  the  sonorous  voice  of  the  great  night 
hawk  hooted  and  hallooed,  and  nearer  at  hand  the 
shivering  little  owl  pined  and  plained  incessantly. 

Later,  he  sat  at  the  table  with  Ruth,  facing  an 
overflowing  board,  but  lacking  the  full  appetite  to 
appreciate  at  their  proper  value  the  dainty  viands 
Ruth  and  Iphogenia  pressed  upon  him  so  hospitably. 
Rather,  his  mind  was  obsessed  with  watching  Ruth's 
movements,  noting  that  she  was  distrait ;  that  her 
hands  trembled  when  she  poured  his  tea  or  passed 
him  some  dish  of  food;  that  her  eyes  fell  swiftly 
before  his  slightest  glance,  and  that  she  spoke  but 
seldom,  and  then  with  a  reserved  graciousness,  lack- 
ing spontaneity  and  impulse. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  317 

In  the  meantime  Allan  had  persuaded  the  worn 
couple  to  repose  upon  their  couch,  which  he  screened 
from  the  Hght  of  the  candles  by  suspending  a  blanket 
from  the  low  rafters,  curtain-wise,  and  then  moved 
a  trunk  to  the  bedside  and  sat  there  in  a  sympathetic 
silence  similar  to  the  vigil  of  Job's  comforters  upon 
the  ash  heap,  while  Iphogenia,  having  consumed  her 
plate  of  lunch,  took  a  rich  carriage  robe  from  Ruth's 
outdoor  supply  of  wraps,  and,  at  Ruth's  suggestion, 
spread  it  in  the  corner  by  the  hearth  and  sat  upon 
it,  with  her  head  resting  against  the  angle  of  the 
rude  fireplace. 

"I  see  it  is  up  to  you  and  I  to  keep  the  vigil,  Miss 
MacKenzie,"  Thayer  remarked  later  on,  after  an 
alert  glance  around  the  room.  Iphogenia  was  frankly 
snoring  and  Allan's  head  drooped  until  his  chin 
rested  upon  his  breast,  and  the  deep,  regular 
breathing  on  the  couch  evinced  that  the  young 
couple  had  found  a  brief  oblivion  from  their  aching 
sorrow. 

"Or,  if  you  will  find  a  place  where  you  can  rest, 
I  will  brave  it  alone,  if  you  will  suggest  some  way 
to  quiet  that  freezing,  shivering  bird,"  he  amended, 
when  he  perceived  Ruth's  startled  glance,  as  her  eyes 
swept  the  room  with  dismayed  comprehension.  "He 
gets  on  my  nerves  out  here  in  this  lonely  thicket,  I 
confess,  candidly." 

"I  have  known  women  who  would  chase  them  out 
of  the  vicinity  with  a  broom;  and  men  who  would 
sally  forth  with  a  gun,  bent  upon  their  destruction ; 
but  they  are  really  most  harmless,  innocent  crea- 
tures, tiny  bundles  of  nerves  and  feathers,  though 
they  make  a  very  weird  impression  upon  a  great 


318  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

many  people.  I  am  so  thankful  you  and  Mr.  Allan 
came  out  here  to-night,  for  really  it  has  been  the 
most  uncanny  experience  of  my  life,  and  so  de- 
pressing," Ruth  chattered  nervously,  but  in  low, 
guarded  tones. 

"I  saw  the  little  casket  as  I  came  down  from  the 
station  with  Seaman  to-day,  and  at  supper  I  men- 
tioned the  incident  to  Allan.  He  informed  me  where 
Owens  lived  and  worked  his  holding  of  turpentine 
trees,  and  we  concluded  to  come,"  he  explained, 
simply. 

"I  shall  take  Nellie  home  with  me  from  the  burial 
to-morrow,  and  her  husband  can  have  a  horse  to  ride 
out  here  to  his  work.  Aunt  Jean  sent  me  word  to 
be  sure  to  do  so.  Nellie  would  go  mad,  I  am  afraid, 
being  alone  here  through  the  day  after  this,"  Ruth 
remarked  with  grieving  tones  and  sad  expression,  as 
she  glanced  over  the  rude  room  and  listened  to  the 
soughing  of  the  pines  which  the  rising  wind  was 
teasing  restlessly. 

"If  ever  ghosts  walk  abroad  in  this  world,  I  be- 
lieve they  find  an  especial  affinity  for  the  conditions 
of  these  primeval  forests,"  he  declared,  hearkening 
to  the  wail  and  murmur  swelling  beyond  the  open 
doors,  which  he  presently  arose  and  closed  against 
the  sudden  chill  brought  on  the  wings  of  the  eastern 
breeze. 

They  lingered  purposely  over  the  informal  repast, 
in  view  of  the  lengthy  tedium  of  the  slow  hours  of 
the  long  night;  and  when  they  finally  cleared  the 
table,  they  resumed  their  seats  by  it  and  forced  con- 
versation into  intermittent  intervals  of  silences. 

Almost  the  entertainment  of  Thayer  was  as  trying 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  319 

to  her  nerves  as  the  heart-straining  effort  to  console 
Nelhe.  In  the  lonely  hours  beyond  midnight  Thayer 
restlessly  arose  from  his  chair  many  times,  to  snuff 
the  candles,  that  were  gradually  sinking  into  the 
sockets  of  Jean's  second-best  silver  candelabra,  and 
spilling  wax  in  picturesque  disorder  over  their 
glistening  ornamentations  of  scroll  and  leaf  work 
which  attested  the  silversmith's  skill  and  artistic  con- 
ceptions. 

And  he  replenished  the  fire  with  pine  knots  from 
a  generous  heap  beside  the  doorstep ;  and  again,  he 
had  folded  the  top  coat  he  had  fetched  there  upon 
his  arm,  had  placed  it  on  the  side  of  the  couch 
and  deftly  lowered  Allan's  nodding  head  upon  it 
without  awakening  the  sleeper. 

It  was  in  a  lonely  hour  near  the  coming  dawn 
when  the  crisis  that  each  had  felt  impending,  though 
in  a  widely  dift'erent  way,  fell  upon  them  with  the 
shock  of  a  climax,  snapping  with  a  swift  stroke  the 
formal  reserve  that  had  marked  the  evening. 

Thayer,  after  a  final  replenishing  of  the  fire  and 
snuffing  of  the  candles,  then  low,  indeed,  in  their 
padded  sockets,  quietly  resumed  his  seat  and  was  so 
impressively  quiet  for  so  long  a  time,  Ruth,  who 
had  feigned  an  assumption  of  repose  by  resting  her 
head  on  her  hand  supported  by  an  elbow  propped 
on  the  table,  and  closing  her  eyes  in  a  drowsy 
languor  she  was  guiltless  of  experiencing,  for  her 
sensitive  heart  was  torn  by  a  conflict  of  stern 
emotions  which  rendered  her  tremulous  anxious 
and  wakeful,  was  impelled  to  steal  a  swift  scrutiny 
of  his  behavior  to  learn  if  he  had  gone  to  sleep. 
Her  glance  surprised  tears  in  his  eyes  and  an  ex- 


320  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

pression  on  his  features  that  could  not  be  misinter- 
preted ;  it  was  such  a  revelation  as  no  feminine  heart 
could  ever  misunderstand  or  ignore.  It  laid  bare 
his  soul  for  her  reading  and  the  story  was  the  por- 
trayal of  a  fervor  of  love  and  admiration  that  over- 
whelmed her  with  its  insistent,  pleading  pathos. 

He  did  not  try  to  evade  the  truth,  although  he  had 
no  solid  ground  whereon  to  build  a  single  hope.  "I 
love  you.  Miss  MacKenzie !  I  have  loved  you  from 
the  first  moment  I  ever  beheld  you !"  he  whispered, 
thrillingly. 

"Oh,  do  not  say  that,  I  beg  you  !"  she  cried,  with  a 
first  impulse,  putting  out  her  hand  as  if  to  ward  oflf  a 
blow ;  then,  after  a  stunned  pause,  she  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands  and  murmured  breathlessly:  "Wait  a 
moment,  please.    Say  no  more  until  I  have  spoken." 

"But  do  not  hide  your  face.  I — I  want  to  see 
your  eyes,"  he  pleaded,  plaintively,  pale  and  excited 
with  strong  emotion. 

He  gazed  upon  her  hypnotically  for  a  while, 
seeing  her  lips  move  and  her  hands  tremblingly  press 
their  veiling  of  her  sight  and  her  quivering  features. 
He  arose  in  a  stress  of  excitement  and  moved  about 
the  room  aimlessly  until  she  lifted  her  head  and 
revealed  a  pale  countenance. 

"Come,  be  seated.  I  have  a  story  to  relate,  and 
you  must  listen,"  she  commanded  tragically. 

"Do  not,  if  it  disturbs  you,"  he  said,  contritely, 
as  he  seated  himself  to  lean  toward  her  in  a  petition- 
ing posture.  "I  should  not  have  said  what  I  did !  It 
was  as  if  I  was  persecuting  you,  forcing  myself  upon 
you  in  unpardonable  degree  in  the  circumstances." 
"No,  truth  is  always  best;  if  it  was  truth,  it  is 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  321 

best  spoken  that  a  wrong  may  be  averted,  and  that 
is  why  I  am  going  to  tell  you  that  which  I  have 
never  spoken  of  to  anyone ;  not  even  to  Aunt  Jean 
or  Donald,"  she  contended. 

"Donald?"  he  echoed,  inquisitively,  and  a  hopeless 
gloom  chased  all  light  from  his  features. 

"Yes ;  but  never  mind ;  he  has  nothing  to  do  with 
what  I  have  to  tell  you,"  she  whispered  tensely. 

"Well,  tell  me,"  he  urged,  and  waited. 

"How  old  are  you,  Mr.  Thayer?"  she  queried, 
irrelevantly. 

"Thirty-two,"  he  answered,  mechanically,  so  busy 
was  he  trying  to  conjecture  her  mood,  her  intention. 

"So  much  as  that !"  she  exclaimed,  in  genuine  sur- 
prise. 

"Every  day  of  it,  and  a  few  months  more,"  he 
affirmed,  still  puzzled.  "Did  you  take  me  for  a  kid, 
Miss  MacKenzie?" 

"Oh,  no,"  she  returned  absently,  as  she  drew  her- 
self erect  and  intertwined  her  fingers,  nervously. 
She  moved  her  tongue  to  moisten  her  lips,  and  then 
said,  with  direct  intonation  : 

"You  had  a  cousin  once,  so  you  have  informed 
Aunt  Jean,  and  you  know  he  was  out  here  some  time 
just  previous  to  the  time  he  died?" 

"Yes,"  he  breathed,  and  again  he  waited. 

"I  loved  him !"  she  faltered,  pale  and  with  set  ex- 
pression. "He  is  the  only  person  I  ever  loved,  and 
I  love  him  still !"  she  enunciated,  her  lips  immobile 
and  her  eyes  glittering  with  the  torture  of  her  self- 
imposed  confession.  "May  I  tell  you  how  it  all 
happened  ?" 

"You,  you,  Miss  MacKenzie,"  he  breathed,  un- 
believingly. 


322  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

"Yes,  I !"  she  repeated,  her  heart  scorched  with 
the  pain  of  the  first  effort  of  the  memory.  Bitter  as 
the  waters  of  the  unsanctified  sea,  as  gall  and  worm- 
wood to  the  taste,  was  this  sacrifice  of  her  most 
sacredly  guarded,  canonized  memory. 

"May  I  tell  you  the  story,  just  as  it  happened?" 
she  requested,  and  lifted  her  hand  to  impose  atten- 
tion; and  when  he  bent  his  head  to  signify  that  he 
was  attending,  she  said,  brokenly: 

"Dear  friend,  I  am  going  to  prove  to  you  how 
much  I  respect  and  esteem  you,  and — and  trust 
you,"  she  reached  forth  her  hand,  and  he  took  it  in 
a  retaining  clasp  and  held  it  while  she  began  at  the 
very  inception  of  her  knowledge  of  Edwin  Phillips, 
and  related  tersely  but  concisely  every  incident  of 
her  relations  with  him.  He  was  silent  as  she  con- 
cluded, but  he  pressed  her  hand  sympathetically. 

"How  old  were  you  when  you  first  met  him  ?"  he 
asked. 

"Not  quite  seventeen,  and  oh,  such  a  child  to  be 
confronted  with  such  a  problem !  Until  this  day  I 
have  no  proper  conception  of  his  character !  I  was 
too  young  to  judge;  I  could  only  idealize  and  wor- 
ship what  seemed  to  me  all  of  the  charm  of  life,  or — 
of  heaven." 

"He  was  a  fine  fellow,  a  darling  boy,  and  every- 
one loved  him,"  he  declared  loyally,  heroically,  yet 
his  eyes  slanted  toward  hers  with  perplexed  scrutiny 
and  inquiry. 

"Yet  he  was  false  to  me,  false  to  every  word  he 
ever  uttered,  brutally,  heartlessly  false,  after  wooing 
me,  an  ignorant,  trusting  child,  with  all  the  art  and 
witchery  his  worldliness  gave  him  command  of," 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  323 

she  said,  wonderingly.  "I  must  have  loved  him 
more  than  I  was  aware  of  until  he  died ;  and  since 
then  I  have  worshipped  his  memory,  and  have 
spurned  all  thoughts  of  love  from  others.  If  you 
had  been  wounded  unto  death  by  any  agent,  could 
you  ever  have  willingly  been  drawn  into  such  a 
maelstrom  of  circumstances  again,  now,  could  you? 
I  have  protected  my  heart  since  then  with  stern  re- 
pulsion of  all  that  could  lure  me  from  my  hard- 
fought-for  peace  and  serenity." 

"Yet,"  he  said,  pausing  and  emphasizing  each  in- 
tonation, "I  love  you  and  shall  always  love  you, 
though  you  have  loved  a  thousand  other  poor 
wretches.  I  am  sure  that  Phillips  loved  you,  for  I 
am  certain  he  had  never  found  anyone  else  just  so 
altogether  worth  loving." 

She  smiled  tremulously,  and  her  eyes  faced  his 
just  for  a  moment.  "Yet  he  married  another,"  she 
reminded  him. 

"Yes,  but  that  is  not  all  of  the  problem,  and  had 
nothing  to  do  with  his  love  for  you,  I  am  assured," 
he  asserted  confidently. 

"That  is  all.  Let  us  close  the  subject,"  Ruth  re- 
quested, and  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  clasped 
her  hands  behind  her  head  with  a  gesture  of  extreme 
fatigue  and  discouragement. 

"Certainly,"  he  acquiesced,  his  slanting  vision  em- 
bracing all  the  evidences  of  her  weariness  and  un- 
usual strain.  Then  he  arose,  turned  and  advanced 
briskly  to  the  side  of  the  deeply  slumbering  sawyer 
and  clasped  his  shoulder  to  shake  him  into  wakeful- 
ness. 

"Dawn   is   here,   Allan !"   he   cried,   running  his 


324  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

fino^ers  through  the  man's  hair  with  an  exasperating 
effort,  to  enforce  his  words. 

Allan  stretched  his  cramped  limbs  and  arose  to 
vent  a  strenuous  yawn. 

"It  is  quite  time  for  us  to  be  going,  really,"  Thayer 
remarked  in  a  tired,  lifeless  tone  of  voice  that  Allan 
was  quick  to  perceive. 

"It  was  beastly  in  me  to  go  to  sleep  and  not  give 
you  a  chance  for  a  nap,  wasn't  it?"  he  apologized, 
suppressing  another  clamoring  yawn. 

"That  is  all  right!  I  have  not  been  in  the  least 
drowsy.  Say!  If  you  feel  any  remorse,  hurry  out 
and  put  the  horse  to  the  buggy ;  that  will  open  your 
eyes,  for  you  will  have  to  do  some  hard  peeping  to 
see  anything,  I  guess." 

Later,  when  Allan  had  gone  out,  he  took  his  coat, 
and,  shaking  out  its  crumpled  folds,  put  it  on,  delib- 
erately, all  the  while  his  eyes  seeking  Ruth,  as  she 
sat  in  deep  dejection,  her  head  again  supported  in 
the  palm  of  her  hand,  as  formerly. 

He  approached  and  stood  before  her.  "I  am  going 
now,"  he  said,  "but  I  wait  to  assure  you  of  my  in- 
tense sympathy  in  all  that  you  have  confided  unto 
me ;  and  that  I  shall  hold  sacred  every  word  of  your 
confidence ;  but  I  think  I  divine  why  you  assumed 
the  pain  of  telling  me,  and  am  sorry  to  inform  you 
that  I  believe  it  was  perfectly  useless,  for  my  heart 
holds  you  in  the  same  regard,  and  I  esteem  you  just- 
as  when  we  began  the  conversation.  Now,  please, 
awaken  your  maid ;  you  should  not  be  left  a  moment 
without  company.  And,"  he  smiled  archly  and  the 
sunny  light  gleamed  in  his  eyes  with  an  evanescent 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  325 

sparkle,  "come  to  see  Lily  soon,  or  better,  shall  I 
bring  her  out  to  see  you  ?" 

Ruth  lifted  her  eyes  with  a  startled  movement. 
"Surely,"  she  said,  "it  would  be  best  not  to  do 
either." 

He  smiled  inscrutably,  said  "Goodby"  hurriedly, 
and,  with  a  last  lingering  glance,  went  out  into  the 
chill,  gray  twilight  of  the  approaching  dawn. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Christmastide — Donald  Again  at   Kissic-Dale 
— A  Wounded  Santa  Claus. 

"Light  of  the  Darkened  World, 
Shine  as  of  old,  when  the  lone  shepherds 
Watched  over  the  fold." 

******** 

"Prince!     With  the  stoic  my  pride  agrees; 
I  gave  my  all  and  I  went  my  way,     .      .     ." 

******** 

"Not  mine  the  peace  of  hearthstone  and  of  home." 

Christmastide  happened  in  one  of  those  spells  of 
bright  sunshine  so  wont  to  embrace  that  period  in 
the  Southland ;  and  the  day  had  been  marked  by 
crisp  breezes  which  set  the  blood  tingling  and  the 
spirits  dancing  to  the  joy-laden  measures  of  the 
time-honored  festival. 

Donald  had  arrived  at  the  kirk  on  Christmas  Eve, 


326  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

the  previous  afternoon,  to  be  more  exact  in  state- 
ment, and  had  attended  the  elaborate  exercises  cele- 
brating the  annual  festival,  the  climax  of  which  was 
two  immense,  heavily-laden  trees,  not  alone  for  the 
Gaelic  congregation,  but  also  for  the  strangers  in  a 
w4de  territory.  It  had  been  a  gay  season  of  music, 
of  smiling  faces,  of  happy  greetings,  and  of  an 
optimistic  cheer,  that  irradiated  each  one  of  the  large 
audience. 

It  was  near  the  midnight  hour,  when  the  house- 
hold, including  him  as  its  only  guest,  had  arrived  at 
home  and  immediately  sought  rest  in  slumber.  He 
had  arisen  late  that  morning,  and  breakfasted  in 
solitary  state  while  Ezeke,  grinning  with  sheer  de- 
light, had  scrupulously  attended  to  his  slightest  need. 
Then,  during  the  forenoon,  he  loitered  aimlessly 
around  the  house  and  premises,  in  a  conjecturing 
silence,  for  there  was  no  opportunity  of  speaking 
with  anyone  he  was  acquainted  with,  as  groups  of 
strangers  thronged  through  the  gates  and  entered  the 
mansion  with  an  air  of  assured  welcome  and  hos- 
pitality. 

Ruth  was  so  very  much  engaged  with  those  ar- 
rivals and  other  duties,  she  could  only  exchange  a 
smile  or  a  word  as  she  met  him  by  chance  while 
flitting  by  on  some  duty  as  hostess  to  her  innumer- 
able guests. 

Lengthy  tables,  dressed  in  glistening  damask, 
tastefully  adorned  with  greens  and  holly  berries,  and 
richly  enhanced  by  glittering  silver  and  frosted 
cakes,  flanked  by  great  stands  of  whipped  cream, 
later  satiated  the  keen  appetites  of  men,  women  and 
children ;  and  in  a  rear  room  of  the  kitchen  were 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  327 

similar  tables,  where  David  presided  and  dispensed 
cheer  to  people  of  his  own  color. 

In  the  afternoon,  Donald  sat  by  the  hearth  of  the 
sitting  room  and  chatted  with  Jean,  who  reclined  on 
a  luxurious  leather  couch,  drawn  near  the  fire  of  in- 
cinerating logs,  whose  delicate  blue  flames  sent  their 
thin,  fragrant  smoke  up  the  wide-throated  chimney. 

The  restless,  laughing  confusion  of  the  thronged 
house,  the  constant  tramp  of  footsteps  on  the 
veranda,  came  to  them  in  muffled  sounds  through 
the  doors  closed  against  any  demand  upon  Jean's  ex- 
hausted strength. 

They  found  much  to  discuss,  and,  for  Jean  at 
least,  the  time  slipped  away  as  the  invited  guests 
were  leaving  for  their  homes,  most  of  them  distant, 
and  beyond  a  tedious  drive.  The  house  gradually 
assumed  a  quietude  in  contrast  to  the  noisy  hours 
of  the  morning  and  noon.  Finally,  Ruth  came  in, 
rosy  and  chilled  from  a  trip  outdoors  to  speed  some 
departing  guests.  She  hurried  to  the  fire  and  knelt 
upon  the  hearth-rug  to  stretch  her  hands  toward  the 
glowing  logs  and  let  their  genial  warmth  bathe  her 
frost-chilled  body. 

She  was  very  good  to  look  upon,  with  her  rosy 
cheeks,  wind-blown  coiffure  and  dark  eyes  sparkling 
unwontedly  with  a  pleasing  memory  of  the  happi- 
ness she  had  that  day  bestowed  upon  so  many  home- 
sick, labor-weary  people.  She  was  richly  clad  in  a 
heavy,  silver-tinted,  gray  silk,  shirred  and  girdled 
at  the  waist  line,  and  corsaged  by  an  elaborate 
scheme  of  creamy  lace  arranged  as  a  plastron  to 
plainly  wreathe  her  exquisitely  molded  white  throat, 
and  to  be  confined  at  the  waist  beneath  its  girdle  of 
crushed  silk. 


328  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

Donald  knew  that  she  had  just  returned  from  wit- 
nessing an  unique  embarkation  down  at  a  point 
where  the  lawn  met  the  approach  of  the  cherry  lane. 
He  had  himself  viewed  it  in  unfeigned  curiosity- 
through  a  window.  It  had  seemed  to  him  that  a 
multitude  of  passengers  of  all  sizes  and  sexes  had 
crowded  into  a  long,  wooden  frame  constructed  of 
scantlings  and  thin  lengths  of  lumber,  the  frame 
resting  upon  wheels  coupled  very  far  apart,  and 
decorated  in  a  very  festive  manner  with  intertwin- 
ing holly  and  mistletoe;  and  a  similar  adornment 
had  been  attached  to  the  heads  of  the  four  stout 
mules  harnessed  to  the  unwieldly  vehicle.  "It  was 
the  crowd  from  Sears'  and  Thayer's  mill,"  Jean  had 
remarked,  when  he  had  commented  on  the  remark- 
able equipage. 

As  she  knelt  on  the  rug,  they  each  had  maintained 
such  a  prolonged  silence  Ruth  was  constrained  to 
glance  at  them  with  a  humorous  smile  wreathing  her 
lips. 

"You  do  not  seem  to  be  in  a  very  gay  mood,  either 
of  you,"  she  said,  and  arose  to  draw  an  upholstered 
armchair  to  the  side  of  the  couch. 

"We  were  just  remarking  that  it  had  been  an  ex- 
ceptional day,"  Donald  returned,  absently. 

"It  has  been  simply  delightful,  so  pleasant  in  every 
respect,"  Ruth  averred,  stroking  Jean's  silver- 
threaded  hair  with  caressing  fingers.  "But  they 
have  all  gone  now,  Auntie,  but  a  few,  whom  Mary 
is  entertaining  in  the  parlor,  and  we  are  now  com- 
paratively quiet.    Are  you  very  tired,  dearie?" 

"Just  enough  to  rest  comfortably,  thank  you, 
bairnie,"  Jean  responded,  with  simple  sincerity. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  329 

"Your  aunt  has  been  telling  me,  Ruth,  that  you 
have  painted  my  portrait  from  a  photo  she  had.  I 
should  Hke  very  much  to  see  it,  and  I,  too,  must  be 
going  soon,"  Donald  spoke  with  deliberation. 

"It  is  not  a  masterpiece,  but  such  as  it  is,  you  may 
behold  it,"  Ruth  replied,  arising  to  lead  the  way  out 
to  her  studio,  which  Donald  then  entered  for  the  first 
time.  Indeed,  very  few  people  had  ever  crossed  its 
threshold ;  it  was  a  retreat  that  she  held  in  sacred 
seclusion ;  for  there  the  sybaritic  element  of  her 
nature  evolved  the  voluptuous  charm  of  sensuous 
ease  and  beauty,  of  splendid  luxury  and  idealistic 
culture,  which  the  austere,  Gaelic  training  and 
heritage  of  mental  traits  so  deprecated,  she  was  fain 
to  hide  it  away  from  the  gaze  of  the  curious  and 
critical,  and  veil  it  as  a  holy  of  holies  for  her  own 
solace  and  enjoyment. 

Here  she  personified  the  culture  and  intelligence, 
the  discriminating  taste  and  standard  of  luxury  ac- 
quired in  the  years  of  study  spent  away  from  Kissic- 
Dale;  and  the  generous  inheritance  from  Angus 
Bethune  had  rendered  it  all  so  facile  in  attainment, 
her  ideals  had  thriven  without  hindrance. 

The  way  leading  down  to  its  entrance,  over  the 
court-like  peristyle,  in  winter  was  inclosed  by  glazed 
sash,  to  serve  as  an  auxiliary  to  the  overflowing  con- 
servatory, then  connected  with  the  parlor  by  another 
glaze-walled  peristyle ;  so  it  was  through  a  lane 
of  palms  and  other  thrifty  hothouses  products,  that 
Donald  approached  a  vision  he  would  remember  his 
lifetime. 

As  they  entered  the  pagoda-like  building  of  two 
spacious  rooms,  his  first  impression  was  that  of  the 


330  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

most  enchanting  color,  warmth  and  fragrance ;  rose- 
colored  velvet  portieres  and  window  draperies,  over- 
hung with  cream-tinted  laces ;  generous  windows 
and  duplicating  mirrors  produced  an  effect  of  splen- 
dor, of  tone  and  spaciousness ;  and  potted  plants, 
such  as  ferns  and  palms,  flowering  japonicas  and 
azaleas,  dwarf  rose  trees  and  baskets  of  dainty 
smilax  in  contrasting  greenery,  filled  the  rooms  with 
an  ineffable  incense  of  living  perfumery. 

The  furniture  was  artistic  and  novel  in  designs ; 
richly-toned  art  squares  of  velvet  moquette,  and 
costly  rugs,  spaced  the  glistening  hardwood  floors  ; 
and  pictures  literally  sheathed  the  hard-finished 
walls  of  a  neutral  color. 

Ruth's  entrance  was  greeted  by  a  warbling  chorus 
from  two  cages  of  golden  canary  birds,  and  a  shriek 
of  joy  from  a  gaudily-plumaged  parrot  swinging  on 
a  perch  beside  an  open  upright  piano,  where  the  sun 
bathed  her  sensitive  body  and  fell  across  the  ivory 
keyboard  in  a  warm,  rose-tinted  bar  of  light. 

A  white  poodle  uncurled  its  fluffy  body  on  the 
hearth-rug,  in  front  of  a  rose  and  gray-tiled  hearth, 
and  a  glowing  fire  of  hickory  logs,  upheld  by  im- 
mense brass  andirons,  and  yawning  lazily,  stretched 
its  Liliputian  limbs  ere  it  bounded  to  Ruth's  side, 
fawning  and  yearning  for  its  accustomed  fondling. 

As  she  was  appeasing  her  neglected  pets  and  still- 
ing the  strident  cries  of  the  haughty  parrot,  Donald 
gave  free  rein  to  his  surprise  and  admiration.  In- 
stinctively, he  experienced  a  pang  of  jealous  resent- 
ment that  Ruth  had  bestowed  so  much  of  herself 
upon  the  insensate,  if  beautiful,  interior;  how  much 
she  had  given,  he  realized  as  his  eyes  searched  the 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  331 

room  with  its  splendor  of  appointments,  and  scanned 
the  amazing  gallery  of  paintings  lining  the  walls 
from  baseboard  to  ceiling.  His  lips  fell  into  a  stern 
pose  of  represession  and  disapproval ;  yet  his  desire 
to  probe  into  the  phases  of  her  life  hidden  from  him 
by  such  extended  absences  forced  him  to  a  concen- 
trated scrutiny  of  her  taste,  her  genius,  her  industry 
in  pursuing  ideals,  her  use  of  Angus  Bethune's  for- 
tune. 

"Polly  is  such  a  scolding  rival  of  my  pigeons,  she 
has  to  be  shut  up  where  her  vision  and  voice  cannot 
reach  them ;  their  dismay  is  something  comical,  as 
she  attacks  them  like  a  veritable  virago  of  jealousy 
and  rage  when  they  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  happen 
in  her  vicinity,"  Ruth  remarked,  with  smiling  criti- 
cism of  the  peevish  bird. 

"And  you  allow  it?"  Donald  said,  with  such  an 
assumption  of  cynical  reproach  it  evoked  a  sensitive 
color  in  Ruth's  countenance. 

"Polly  is  impervious  to  discipline,  as  it  happens," 
she  protested,  as  she  absently  stroked  the  irridescent 
dress  of  her  tropical  pet. 

Donald's  unresponsive  silence  impelled  her  atten- 
tion from  the  bird. 

"What  is  it  you  so  disapprove  of  in  my  beloved 
sanctum  ?"  she  queried,  smiling,  noting  his  frowning 
absorption  as  his  glance  roved  from  object  to  object, 
rather  in  disparagement  than  with  admiration  and 
approval. 

"All  of  it,"  he  replied,  tersely,  "because  it  is  so 
futile  and  selfishly  useless." 

"Why,  Donald,  how  cross  you  are !"  she  exclaimed 
ligthly,  refusing  to  be  scolded  seriously. 


332  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

"Why  do  you  sacrifice  your  life  to  such  amazing 
drudgery  as  art  and  philanthropy  and  similar  barren 
worry  and  toil  is  beyond  my  power  to  comprehend 
comfortably,"  he  complained,  critically. 

"Oh,  but  you  know  I  informed  you  of  what  I 
intended  to  do,  long  ago,  Donald !"  she  reminded 
him,  with  smiling  patience. 

He  bent  his  head  with  an  incisive  gesture  of  assent 
and  then  devoted  himself  to  a  closer  inspection  of 
heroic  water  colors  and  paintings.  Ruth  experi- 
enced a  reminiscent  misgiving,  such  as  she  had  felt 
when  he,  with  vested  authority,  had  sat  in  judgment 
upon  her  solutions  of  abstruse  problems  set  forth  by 
theoretical  text-books.  His  critical  inspection  of  her 
work  rendered  her  suddenly  nervous,  and  a  dread  of 
his  unfriendly  verdict  evoked  an  inspiration  to  lift 
her  violin  from  its  case  and  with  deft  fingers  twist 
its  strings  into  harmonious  chords.  Polly  danced  in 
raucous  glee  and  the  canaries  linked  their  liquid 
notes  to  the  first  tentative  strain  of  a  Schumanesque 
symphony. 

As  the  music  swelled  into  heart-probing  cadences, 
Donald  was  seduced  from  his  critical  regard  of  the 
interior,  and,  selecting  a  seat,  he  heeded  the  violin's 
loquacious  voice,  as  it  wove  with  threads  of  divine 
melody,  the  Mystic  Web  of  Life. 

"That  serene,  unconscious,  ceaseless  flow 

Of  light  and  dark,  of  life  and  death,  which  makes  good 

out  of  evil,  order  of  odd. 
Spirit  and  substance  mingling  as  they  go, 
Until  a  new,  self-centered  soul  awakes 
To  know  that  all  is  the  gentle  will  of  God." 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  333 

As  the  last  quavering  aria  floated  into  an  abrupt 
silence,  she  laid  the  instrument  in  its  case  and  closed 
the  piano  ere  she  turned  to  face  Donald,  whose  eyes 
had  darkened  and  were  sombre  with  repressed  feel- 
ing and  admiration. 

"Let  me  show  you  the  portrait  now,  please,"  she 
requested,  timidly,  deprecating  the  impulse  that  had 
led  her  to  divert  him  with  music. 

With  a  resigned  mien,  he*  arose  and  she  led  the 
way  beyond  the  curtained  archways  on  either  side 
the  hearth-stone;  and  he  found  himself  in  another 
large  room,  evidently  her  library,  where  light- 
weighted  book-stacks  stood  in  sections  upon  the 
mirror-like  gloss  of  the  uncovered  floor.  There  the 
furnishings,  though  elegant,  were  austerely  plain, 
and  the  interior  motive,  strictly  intellectual. 

Donald  viewed  it  with  glowing  eyes ;  the  atmos- 
phere of  books  appealed  to  him  as  the  home-cote  to 
a  carrier  pigeon.  The  other  apartment  repulsed  him, 
it  so  exclusively  personified  sensuous  ease,  racial 
sentiment  and  emotional  ecstacy. 

Ruth  moved  with  deliberate  purpose  through  in- 
tricate windings  of  the  aisles  between  the  book- 
stacks,  and  paused  before  a  stout,  oaken  easel,  upon 
which  rested  the  portrait  they  had  set  out  to  view. 
Donald  approached  leisurely,  loitering  by  book- 
stacks  to  note  their  classification.  When,  finally,  he 
faced  his  portrait,  that  speaking  likeness  of  his  un- 
formed, vernal  youth,  he  frowned  at  its  almost 
feminine  delicacy  and  obvious  callowness. 

"It  is  very  much  as  you  appeared  at  the  period  the 
photograph  was  made,  of  which  it  is  a  copy,"  Ruth 
asserted,  apologetically. 


334  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

"Perhaps  it  is,"  he  admitted,  ruefully. 

When  she  could  do  so  considerately  she  moved 
away  and  slipped  back  to  the  other  apartment  where 
her  pets  were  peevishly  demanding  her  presence. 
She  held  Muffet,  the  tiny  poodle,  in  her  arms, 
chirped  to  the  canaries  and  scolded  Polly  for  not 
assuming  more  dignity  in  the  presence  of  a  visitor; 
and  Polly  volubly  made  an  excuse  by  a  constant 
repetition  of  "Polly  wants  a  cracker,  Ruth!  Polly 
wants  a  cracker,"  although  cake  in  abundance  was 
spread  about,  where  Iphogenia  had  provided  susten- 
ance for  the  little  prisoners. 

When  Donald  finally  returned  from  the  inspection 
of  his  portrait  and  the  room,  which  had  really  inter- 
ested him  more  than  the  picture,  with  its  adornment 
of  stag's  antlers,  bagpipes  and  other  relics  of  the 
"land  o'  cakes,"  and  in  every  conceivable  niche  or 
position  busts  of  poets  and  authors  and  other  less 
notable  celebrities,  he  said,  in  a  censuring  manner, 
as  he  rejoined  Ruth,  "And  all  this  is  hidden  from 
any  eye  but  your  own  ;  reserved  exclusively  for  your 
own  enjoyment  and  edification  !" 

"Oh,  no  !  I  have  an  audience,  and  an  unique  one ! 
Mary  used  to  come  in  at  lengthy  intervals ;  Aunt 
Jean  comes  oftener,  and  worships  reverently  at  her 
chosen  shrine.  See !  There  is  her  prized  loving  cup 
beneath  it,  and  the  floral  ofifering  is  her  own  !"  Ruth 
pointed  to  an  immense  canvas,  from  which  beamed 
the  pensive  face  of  "Mary,  Queen  af  Scots."  "And," 
she  continued,  "Iphogenia  keeps  the  place  in  order 
and  feeds  my  pets ;  Tony  and  Ezeke  and  David  all 
have  duties  to  perform  in  here,  at  one  time  and 
another,  and  they  all,  every  one,  from  Aunt  Jean 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  335 

down  the  lists,  are  critics.  Some  of  their  remarks 
are  rich,  and  I  have  wished  that  others,  artists  and 
so  forth,  I  mean,  could  have  heard  them,  not  alone 
for  their  amusement,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  in- 
tensely literal  viewpoint.  Dicey,  I  must  say,  is  the 
most  candid  and  picturesque  of  any  of  them.  You 
should  have  heard  her  original  comments  on  your 
portrait,"  she  said. 

"Ruth,"  he  interposed  sternly,  "you  are  evading 
some  issue  and  diverting  me  from  every  subject  I 
am  anxious  to  touch  upon.  As  for  this  gallery  of 
the  personages  who  have  made  our  history,  and 
whose  traits  and  traditions  we  have  inherited  and 
accepted,  the  whole  collection  is  superb.  I  was  in 
Edinburgh  and  the  Highlands  last  year,  and  know 
your  conceptions  are  idealized  realisms,  nothing 
less,  I  assure  you.  I  must  glance  over  them  again  ; 
just  glance,  for  indeed,  I  must  be  going.  Fain  would 
I  tarry  indefinitely,  but  I  have  not  seen  my  mother 
in  almost  two  years,  remember,  and  this  brief  holi- 
day has  been  an  act  of  violence  to  very  pressing 
duties." 

And  once  more  he  went  the  round  of  the  sheathed 
walls,  while  Ruth  stood  helplessly  by  the  window 
and  permitted  the  keen  scrutiny  of  work  that  she 
had  never  been  able  to  judge  with  any  definite 
accuracy  as  to  its  merits  or  faults.  His  lingering 
inspection  finally  brought  him  before  a  portrait  of 
the  Scottish  heroine.  Flora  MacDonald,  and  he  was 
deeply  impressed  with  its  realism.  It  was  after  a 
painting  by  Ramsay,  highly  idealized  and  endowed 
with  lifelike  touches,  wholly  lacking  in  the  original. 

From  the  skillful  use  of  the  most  delicate  color- 


336  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

ings  and  the  vital  rendering  of  expression,  had  been 
evolved  a  living,  breathing  Flora,  who  gazed  with 
serious,  candid  eyes  upon  "Bonny  Prince  Charlie," 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  He  seemed  to  be 
viewing  her,  also,  with  speculative  seriousness,  as 
his  eyes  slanted  pensively  in  her  direction. 

Such  a  lovely,  bonny  Flora !  With  a  rose  nestling 
in  her  shining  curls,  and  roses  upon  her  bosom,  her 
shapely  hands  holding  with  careless  grace  some 
pretty  white  flowers  he  was  not  able  to  class.  Sur- 
pliced  sleeves  of  some  sheer,  white  material,  and 
bare  white  throat  and  shoulders,  from  which  her 
tartan  plaid  of  brilliant-hued  silk  fell  gracefully, 
leaving  them  exposed,  gave  to  her  the  formal  and 
distinguished  air  evening  dress  imparts  to  all  climes 
and  periods.  She  appeared  to  be  living,  and  her  lips 
to  say:  "I  am  willing  to  put  my  life  in  jeopardy  to 
save  His  Royal  Highness  from  the  dangers  which 
beset  him." 

The  portrait  of  the  chevalier  prince  was  after  a 
painting  by  Le  Togue ;  and  his  countenance  glowed 
with  the  sparkle  of  a  dewy  morning,  his  eyes  beamed 
with  radiant  hope  and  energy,  his  fair  hair,  brushed 
carefully  from  an  open  brow,  curled  on  his  neck 
enscarfed  with  white  silk,  which  matched  the  ele- 
gance of  his  beruffled  bosom  and  cuflfs.  His  dress 
was  a  heavy,  royal-tinted  silk  in  court  style  of  Louis 
XV.  period,  and  an  ermine  cloak  drooped  from  his 
shoulders. 

The  innocence,  the  pathos  of  trust  and  confiding 
gentleness  was  matchlessly  expressed,  and  the  seduc- 
tive charms  of  character  suggested  by  the  original 
had  been  idealized  until  it  made  his  heart  ache  with 
a  tender  pity  in  beholding  it ;  and  that  pitying  sorrow 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  337 

was  intensified  into  infinite  compassion,  when  his 
glance  left  that  springtime  of  manhood  and  rested 
upon  another  portrait  of  the  Prince,  copied  from  the 
painting  by  Humphrey,  where  age  had  set  its  seal, 
and  the  once  beautiful  mouth,  so  expressive  of  gen- 
tleness, drooped  pathetically ;  and  the  one  time  flash- 
ing eyes  gloomed  stolidly,  if  not  suspiciously:  "A 
prince  still,"  and  withal,  a  heart-broken  wanderer,  "a 
man  without  a  country." 

Environing  those  two  most  interesting  portraits 
were  bold  delineations  of  the  very  essence  of  the 
romantic  charm  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  Wild 
scenes  of  Alpine  grandeur,  rocky  caverns  and  nar- 
row gorges,  rock-ribbed  cliffs  and  foaming  surfs  and 
whirling  sea  fowls ;  azure  skies  and  awesome  tarns ; 
fir-clad  steeps  and  emerald  dells ;  feeding  flocks  and 
bonneted  shepherds  ;  the  splendors  of  castles  and  the 
squalor  of  the  mountain  sheiling;  the  barbaric  in- 
teriors and  the  mad  revels  in  the  halls  of  chiefs,  the 
serene  crooning  quietude  of  the  inglesides  of  cot- 
tagers ;  the  lordly  patrician  and  the  humble  patrici- 
ate ;  the  beacon-lighted  hills  and  the  gathering  of 
clans,  picturesque  in  plumed  bonnets,  tartan  plaids 
and  kilts,  and  armed  with  haliberds,  claymores  and 
broad  axes. 

"For  Charlie  they  drew  the  broad  sword," 

strong,  earnest  men,  who  sang  sincerely: 

"We'll  over  water  to  Charlie; 
Come  weal,  come  woe, 
We'll  gather  and  go. 
And  live  or  die  for  Charlie!" 


338  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

A  contrast  to  the  brave  marshalling  of  clans,  com- 
manded by  cross  of  fire  and  led  by  skirling  bag- 
pipes, were  reproductions  of  the  portraits  of  the 
Royal  Stuarts,  and  the  dignitaries  who  helped  to 
make  the  history  of  their  reign;  James  I.  and  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots  were  conspicuous  in  high,  frilled 
ruffles  of  the  Elizabethan  era,  and  the  courtly  dress, 
in  grim  contrast  to  the  richness  and  furbelows  of  the 
personages  from  the  French  court  of  the  reigns  of 
the  Louises. 

After  a  prolonged  and  interested  study  of  those 
details  so  intimately  allied  to  the  traditions  of  the 
exiles,  Donald,  with  a  full  intake  of  breath  that  had 
been  partially  suspended,  moved  his  position  to  again 
face  the  portrait  of  the  Highland  heroine  that  was 
enshrined  as  a  goddess.  A  gilded  bracket  held  tiny 
candelabra,  bearing  waxen  tapers ;  and  a  vase  of 
rare  flowers  embraced  also  pine  twigs  from  the 
cherished  little  pines  from  the  motherland. 

He  turned  to  Ruth  with  a  teasing  smile.  "Thou 
shalt  have  no  other  gods  before  me,"  he  quoted,  ges- 
turing to  indicate  the  altar-like  environment  of  the 
heroine's  portrait. 

"She  saved  our  prince,  you  know,  and  his  veins 
ran  with  the  blood  of  the  Stuarts.  My  reverence 
for  her  and  the  Chevalier  Prince  is  but  a  tribute  to 
my  sacred  heritage  from  the  storied  'Ancient  of 
Days.'  Oh,  do  you  never  reflect  how  our  kings  and 
our  country  has  been  denied  us,  although  our  race 
was  a  pioneer  one  in  the  civilization  of  Europe;  and 
that  wherever  we  are,  and  in  whatever  condition  we 
are  in  heart  and  in  ideals  Gaelics  still !"  Ruth  ex- 
claimed, appealing  to  his  racial  patriotism. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  339 

"Indeed,  I  subscribe  to  Tacitus,  who  said  to  our 
ancestors  two  thousand  years  ago :  'As  therefore 
you  advance  to  battle,  look  back  upon  your  ances- 
tors ;  look  forward  to  your  posterity,"  he  agreed, 
assentingly. 

He  was  so  much  of  the  world  and  his  mind  so  per- 
meated with  the  exigencies  of  the  position  he  occu- 
pied in  its  strenuous  intellectuality,  he  glanced  back- 
ward to  history  but  incidentally.  He  had  ere  then 
been  impressed  that  Ruth  brooded  too  much  on  the 
unalterable,  depressing  past  of  their  eventful  race, 
and  was  without  proper  zest  for  the  interesting 
present  and  the  potential  future ;  so  when  she  moved 
to  the  door  as  a  signal  that  they  should  depart  from 
the  studio,  he  followed  reluctantly  and  thoughtfully. 
As  she  closed  the  door  she  paused  and  said, 
earnestly : 

"I  love  my  work,  Donald,  and  it  has  afforded  me 
much  pure  pleasure,  but  its  claims  I  consider  entirely 
personal  to  myself, — I  have  never  imposed  their  con- 
sideration upon  others." 

"I  understand,"  he  rejoined,  conciliatingly.  "But 
let  us,  I  pray,  speak  of  the  present  for  the  few 
moments  left  me  to  be  with  you,  for  Ruth : 

"Little   it   avails   us   now   to   know 
Of  ages  past  so  long  ago, 

Nor  how  they  rolled; 
Our  theme  shall  be  of  yesterday, 
Which  to  oblivion  sweeps  away, 

Like  days  of  old." 

"Let  us  sit  here,"  he  suggested,  indicating  a  white, 


340  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

enameled  seat  placed  near  a  small  stove  that  was 
given  draught  by  a  terra-cotta  chimney  on  a  brick 
foundation,  whose  office  was  to  furnish  heat  for  the 
improvised  hothouse,  where  tropical  growths  thrived 
uninfluenced  by  weather.  Donald  felt  more  at  ease 
there  where  the  unalloyed  sunlight  fell  upon  green 
growing  things  and  shimmered  in  changing  lights 
upon  Ruth's  yellow  hair. 

"Now  tell  me,"  he  insisted  when  they  were  seated, 
"why  you  invited  me  to  spend  Christmas  here?  Your 
invitation  was  as  much  of  a  command  as  a  request?" 

"Why,  I  really  wanted  to  see  you  very  much,  in- 
deed. I  have  never  forgotten  the  time  when  you 
lived  here  with  us.  Have  you,  Donald?"  she 
answered  naively,  and  with  visible  duplicity. 

"It  is  the  one  memory  of  my  desolate  life !"  he 
exclaimed  with  tremulous  despondency,  that  aroused 
her  constant  remorse  to  a  quickened  sympathy. 

"Scenes  that  are  brightest  may  charm  for  awhile. 
Hearts  that  are  lightest  and  eyes  that  smile; 
Yet  o'er  them  above  us,  though  Nature  beam. 
With  none  to  love  us,  how  sad  they  seem!" 

He  quoted  this  verse  from  one  of  Jean's  favorites, 
sung  often  in  the  days  when  he  sojourned  at  Kissic- 
Dale.  Her  glance  drooped  to  her  folded  hands — 
ringless,  but  for  her  mother's  solitaire  gem — and  a 
pensive  dejection  infolded  her  features  in  habitual 
lines. 

"Oh,  why  do  you  remain  lonely?  That  was  one 
reason  why  I  was  anxious  to  see  you.  I  wished  to 
find  out  if  you  were  permitting  a  mistaken  sense  of 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  341 

loyalty  to  me  to  interfere  with  your  happiness.  If 
you  are  lonely,  there  are  so  many  beautiful  women 
in  your  circle,  why  have  you  not  let  some  of  them 
round  out  your  life  by  making  a  home  for  you?  I 
am  sure  some  of  the  grand  women  you  know  could 
make  you  very  proud  and  happy,"  she  suggested, 
wistfully. 

Donald  sat  erect,  squared  his  shoulders,  and  as- 
sumed all  the  hauteur  with  which  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  meet  the  people  of  his  world.  Indeed,  at 
all  times,  he  bore  himself  with  the  air  of  a  conqueror, 
for  he  had  not  been  victorious  beyond  the  most 
hopeful  dreams  and  pretensions  of  the  beginning  of 
his  career.  He  was  not  vain,  but  he  was  informed, 
nevertheless,  that  he  was  a  very  handsome,  stalwart 
figure,  and  that  women  gave  him  their  sweetest 
smiles  unsolicited. 

But  with  all  his  attainments,  social  and  profes- 
sional, he  knew  that  the  one  essential  to  real  happi- 
ness had,  so  far,  been  denied  him;  but  so  stolidly 
had  he  borne  the  emptiness  of  his  lot,  his  associates 
had  never  known  the  aching  void  his  life  really  em- 
bodied. He  threw  all  the  strength  of  disclaimer  to 
crime  in  his  poise  and  utterance,  as  he  said,  with 
more  than  a  touch  of  bitterness : 

"What !"  he  cried.  "Be  false  to  every  holy  in- 
stinct and  longing  of  my  heart,  and  debase  myself 
and  an  innocent  victim  with  a  loveless  marriage ! 
No  !  If  you  do  not  marry  me,  I  shall  go  to  my  grave 
in  single  state.  I  am  as  assured  as  if  I  had  trod  the 
desolate  way  already.  Did  you  invite  me  here  to 
say  that?"  he  demanded,  sternly. 

"Partly,"   she  admitted,  guardedly.     "But  there 


342  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

were  other  reasons.  I  had  no  frivolous  motive,  be 
assured." 

"I  am  assured,  or  I  should  never  have  come  to 
see  you  and  then  go  away  to  fight  over  the  ever- 
recurring  battle  for  patience  to  repress  the  clamoring 
ache  of  my  heart,  always  so  faithful,  but  ever  denied 
the  solace  it  craves  so  desperately,"  he  complained 
with  a  fretting  tone  quite  incongruous  with  his 
stately  form  and  bearing. 

Ruth  leaned  against  the  arm  of  the  seat  and 
beheld  him  with  candid  vision.  There  were 
distinct  shadows  beneath  her  dark  eyes,  a  pathetic 
wistfulness  in  the  pose  of  her  features  that  Donald 
observed  with  a  swift  throb  of  remorse. 

"Never  mind,  Ruth.  I  am  sorry  that  I  have  said 
.so  much.  I  should  be  man  enough  to  bear  disap- 
pointment without  weak  plaining  to  one  who  is  not 
responsible,  and  has  always  been  the  truest,  sweetest 
of  friends.  I  must  manage  to  get  along  without  you, 
although  it  is  hard  to  be  always  resigned  and 
patient." 

"Donald,  long  ago  when  I  could  not  answer  as 
you  wished  me  to  do,  I  promised  you  that  I  would 
not  marry  anyone  else  while  you  waited  for  me,  so 
if  you  have  been  desolate,  so  have  I,"  Ruth  pro- 
tested, contritely. 

"Well,  that  is  a  situation  to  please  an  ascetic,  but 
I  must  confess  it  can  never  be  very  comforting  to  a 
mere  material  man !  I  see  no  solace  in  the  duet  of 
desolation.  Ruth,  tell  me,  whatever  has  made  you 
such  as  you  are?  You  were  not  that  way  when  I 
first  knew  you ;  neither  was  there  prophecy  of  any- 
thing of  the  kind ;  your  mind  and  heart  fairly  teemed 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  343 

with  joy  and  anticipation.  I  have  puzzled  so  much 
over  the  problem,  but  it  seems  I  shall  never  achieve 
its  solution." 

"There  comes  Jamie  with  Catherine  and  Lorna, 
your  one-time  petted  pupils.  Haven't  they  grown, 
though  !  They  came  from  school  to  meet  Jamie,  who 
is  their  idol,"  Ruth  exclaimed,  pointing  to  where  a 
tall  youth  of  eighteen  years  of  age  with  a  girl  on 
either  arm,  whose  ages  were  respectively  thirteen 
and  fifteen  years,  had  entered  the  lawn,  and  laugh- 
ing and  chattering,  were  approaching  the  veranda. 

Donald  arose  to  his  full  height  and  buttoned  his 
coat  snugly  across  his  breast.  Ruth  confessed  to  an 
acute  admiration  of  his  Viking  strength  and  blonde 
personality;  and  noted  that  the  hair  was  thinning 
above  his  broad,  white  brow,  that  his  movements, 
unconsciously  to  himself,  were  commanding  and  dic- 
tatorial ;  an  element  lacking  ere  his  training  in  the 
school  of  combative  ambitions. 

"My  hour  is  over ;  Jamie's  coming  means  that  he 
is  ready  to  take  me  home,"  he  said,  with  a  sad 
finality  in  mien  and  expression.  "Perhaps,  I  may 
come  again  in  the  summer  to  renew  my  stale  plea  for 
some  reciprocity  in  a  bitter  siege  of  loyalty." 

Ruth  moved  her  lips  to  speak,  but  caught  the 
words  ere  they  escaped  into  speech.  Instead,  she 
walked  on  by  his  side,  silent,  until  they  emerged 
upon  the  veranda  and  were  about  to  join  the  chil- 
dren. She  remarked  then  that  she  was  going  to 
have  a  luncheon  served  to  him  and  Jamie  before 
they  departed  on  their  journey;  and  with  this  ex- 
cuse she  hurried  forward  to  disappear  later  in  the 
direction  of  the  dining-room. 


344  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

After  Donald  and  Jamie  had  finally  gone,  Ruth 
busied  herself  in  helping  set  the  house  in  order. 
There  had  been  such  a  number  of  guests  barely  a 
chair  was  in  place  in  the  rooms  accustomed  to  the 
strictest  precision  in  neatness  and  system ;  so  when 
the  sun-flaming  west  had  paled  and  the  early  twi- 
light was  draping  the  interiors  in  a  mist  of  gray 
shadow,  peculiarly  individual  to  the  festive  day,  she 
was  in  the  parlor,  leaning  dreamily  against  the  closed 
window,  watching  the  decline  of  the  short,  eventful 
day,  and  recalling  the  last  glance  of  Donald's,  in 
which  she  had  glimpsed  unspoken  heartache  and  pre- 
monition of  immediate  loneliness,  when  the  musical 
tones  of  Charley  Thayer's  voice  startled  her  from 
the  sad  revery. 

He  was  in  the  sitting  room,  where  Jean  had  just 
received  him,  and  he  was  declaring  to  her  in  positive 
tones  that  if  he  had  missed  the  evening  meal  he 
would  collapse  from  sheer  hunger  and  an  appetite 
clamoring  for  some  of  her  dainty  Christmas  fare. 

Jean  was  fain  to  join  his  jesting  humor,  and  would 
not  say  that  the  meal  was  yet  to  be  served. 

"Perhaps  we  haven't  anything  to  eat,  and  must 
therefore  all  go  supperless,"  Ruth  heard  her  remark 
in  a  teasing  tone  that  evinced  she  was  enjoying  the 
situation.  "You  know  we  have  had  much  company 
to-day." 

While  they  were  jesting  thus,  Ruth  left  the  win- 
dow and  lighted  the  lamps  in  the  chandelier.  He 
had  come,  then,  after  all.  Mr.  Allan  had  informed 
her  that  day  that  he  had  not  slept  the  previous  night ; 
that  the  burns  on  his  hands  and  neck  had  been  so 
painful  and,  lacking  proper  remedies,  he  had  sat  up 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  345 

all  night  applying  damp  cloths  to  the  smarting 
wounds  he  had  received  that  evening  out  at  the  kirk, 
where  he  had  been  a  most  charming  Santa  Claus. 

She  experienced  again  the  sharp  agony  of  horror 
that  had  assailed  her,  when  his  robe,  sheathed  in 
fluffed  cotton,  had  been  set  aflame  by  an  accidental 
candles  which  had  served  to  adorn  and  light  the 
contact  with  the  tiny  blaze  of  one  of  the  innumerable 
trees.  It  had  lasted  but  a  moment,  as  with  great 
presence  of  mind  he  had  deftly  swept  the  flames 
from  his  throat  and  wrist,  and  then  rushed  behind 
the  curtain  that  hid  the  gifts  the  trees  could  not  con- 
tain and  quickly  subjugated  the  ephemeral  blaze. 

He  had  made  light  of  his  burns  later,  when  she 
approached  him,  in  acute  sympathy,  and  a  sense  of 
personal  responsibility,  for  she  knew  that  he  had 
assumed  the  laborious  role  but  to  serve  her  and  aid 
in  her  effort  to  give  pleasure  to  a  great  many  whose 
lives  embodied  deprivation. 

Soon  the  supper  bell  rang  and  put  an  end  to  the 
bantering  in  the  sitting  room ;  and  she  went  forth 
and  joined  them  as  they  were  preparing  for  the 
journey  to  the  dining-room. 

"I  resemble  a  battle-scarred  veteran  of  a  holy  war, 
do  I  not?"  he  questioned,  soberly,  when  Ruth  bent 
pitying  eyes  upon  his  bandaged  neck  and  hands. 
"But,  indeed,  the  burns  are  slight ;  there  would  not 
have  been  one  blister  if  I  had  not  neglected  to  attend 
to  the  scorched  places  at  once.  As  it  was,  they  did 
pain  me  some  last  night,  but  they  have  ceased  to 
smart  now." 

Thus  he  chattered,  while  they  served  him 
solicitously  until  he  declined  another  morsel.    Later, 


346  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

it  devolved  upon  Ruth  to  entertain  him  in  the  parlor. 
Jean  was  weary  with  the  unusual  demands  the  day 
had  levied  upon  her  strength;  and  Mary  had  re- 
tired soon  after  the  serving  of  the  last  meal.  Jean 
had  insisted  upon  a  thorough  attention  to  his 
wounds,  and  had  supplied  him  with  a  portion  of  all 
her  salves  and  emoliatives.  He  professed  to  being 
perfectly  comfortable,  but  he  could  not  play  any 
instrument  as  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  at 
previous  calls ;  therefore  Ruth  exerted  herself  to 
amuse  him,  and  taxed  her  mind  with  subjects  of 
peculiar  interest  to  him,  she  presumed. 

Jean,  in  her  solicitude  for  his  comfort,  had  en- 
sconced him  in  the  most  comfortable  seat  in  the 
room,  and  placed  a  rich  ottoman  for  his  feet  to  rest 
upon;  but  after  she  had  retired,  his  assumption  of 
cheerfulness  ebbed  into  a  pensive  acquiescence  to 
all  of  Ruth's  rather  labored  remarks. 

"Shall  I  play  for  you,  and  what  instrument  would 
you  prefer?"  Ruth  questioned,  seeing  his  lack  of 
animation  and  believing,  truly,  that  he  was  not 
feeling  well. 

"Your  harp,  please ;  I  have  a  slight  headache,  and 
I  think  its  soft  notes  would  soothe  rather  than  shock 
my  treacherous  nerves,"  he  replied,  listlessly. 

"Had  you  not  better  retire?"  Ruth  inquired 
earnestly. 

"Oh,  no,  please !  I  have  spent  the  day  in  bed,  and 
it  was  awful !  Play  for  me,  and  I  shall  be  perfectly 
content  and  grateful,"  he  insisted,  and  Ruth  obedi- 
ently secured  her  large,  triangular  harp  and  evoked 
from  the  responsive  chords  pensive  arias  to  which 
she  sang  snatches  of  sentimental  melody,  including 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  347 

cooing  lullabies  and  tender  home  songs ;  but  not  one 
note  that  could  appeal  to  the  emotional  passions  of 
the  heart. 

He  was  charmed  with  her  rendition  of  "We'd 
Better  Bide  a  Wee."  She  searched  into  Jean's  great 
folio  of  old-time  music,  and  keyed  the  harp  to  the 
rude  monotones  of  ancient  Scotch  minstrelsy,  to  sing 
to  the  accompaniment  of  the  peculiarly  adaptive  in- 
strument, quaintly  worded  and  rhymed  lays  of  ad- 
venture and  chivalry  in  mediaeval  periods,  relative 
to  Britain  and  Scotland.  His  interest  was  deeply 
aroused,  and  she  ventured  on  to  finally  chant  a  lyric 
of  even  rhyme,  but  of  the  eventful  days  of  the  later 
crusades. 

She  had  sung  many  verses  of  the  legendary  song 
that  related  how  the  pilgrim  had  returned  after  a 
long  absence  so  changed,  his  own  miller  failed  to 
recognize  him;  on  through  the  pilgrim's  pathetic 
song  at  the  bridal  feast,  the  lady's  declaration,  and 
then  came  her  plea : 

"Yes,   here   I   claim   the   praise,   she   said,   to   constant 

matrons  due. 
Who  keep  the  troth  that  they  have  plight  so  steadfastly 

and  true; 
For  count  the  term  howe'er  ye  will,  so  that  you  count 

aright, 
Seven  twelvemonths  and  a  day  are  out  when  the  bells 

toll  twelve  to-night." 

Involuntarily,  subconsciously  startled,  Ruth  paused, 
her  voice  and  fingers  dropped  the  rhythmic  thread  of 
the  lyric,  as,  for  a  full  moment,  her  eyes  clouded 


348  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

with  an  introspective  shadow  and  she  sank  into  a 
dreaming  pose,  as  if  she  had  finished.  But  even  as 
he  opened  his  Hps  to  speak,  she  recovered  her  wits 
and  sang  on,  not  just  as  before,  but  with  a  stohd 
persistence  that  finished  the  few  remaining  verses 
without  loss  to  enunciation  or  harmony.  Then  she 
arose  and  put  aside  the  harp. 

"Shall  we  retire  now?  I  am  sure  you  must  be 
weary,"  she  proposed,  tentatively.  Just  then  the  tall, 
colonial  clock  out  in  the  hall  boomed  ten  sonorous 
strokes,  which  justified  closing  the  interview. 

"I  will  retire  directly,  for  your  sake,  not  my  own," 
he  returned,  reluctantly.  "But  Miss  MacKenzie, 
will  you  please  tell  me  why  you  fell  so  suddenly 
serious,  just  now?  What  was  it  in  the  song  affected 
you  so?" 

"Oh,"  she  sighed,  and  then  paused,  as  if  per- 
plexed and  saddened.  "It  is  hard  to  explain  to  you," 
she  said,  finally.  "But  it  was  an  uncanny  sensation. 
I  will  not  tell  you,  for  I  will  not  have  you  accuse 
me  of  being  superstitious." 

"I  would  not,"  he  asserted,  caressingly. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  remarked,  in  a  deliberate  but 
aloof  tone  and  mien,  "that  we  Gaelics  have  a  species 
of  occultism  or  some  intuitive  force  that  others  do 
not  seem  to  possess?  Aunt  Jean  says  that  she  has 
the  privilege  of  involuntarily  looking  beyond  the 
wall  of  the  present;  and  of  finding  in  the  bud  of 
things  the  thorns  that  will  some  day  pierce  the  hand 
that  clasps  the  flower  of  joy." 

He  gazed  into  her  introspective  eyes  steadily  and 
exploitingly ;  then  he  abruptly  changed  the  subject, 
for  he  discovered  that  she  was  troubled. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  349 

"Will  you  also  tell  me,  please,  at  what  age  that 
portrait  of  you  was  executed?"  and  he  pointed  to 
the  Daphne  portrait,  which  still  retained  its  first 
position  on  the  wall. 

"In  my  eighteenth  year,  I  believe,"  she  returned, 
with  such  evident  reserve  he  arose  to  bid  her  good 
night. 

"I  shall  be  off  for  my  holiday  to-morrow,  and  shall 
be  gone  some  time.  See  after  my  people  while  I 
am  away.  I  shall  come  to  see  your  aunt  upon  my 
return  and  bring  her  the  news  I  have  promised  her ; 
and,  perhaps.  I  may  bring  you  something  that  you 
will  appreciate  more  than  my  uninteresting  self,"  he 
remarked,  as  he  was  leaving  the  room. 

She  flushed  rosily,  but  maintained  a  dignified 
silence,  as  she  bent  her  head  in  acknowledgment  of 
his  words,  but  she  could  not  meet  his  eyes  that  were 
swimming  in  tears  forced  by  some  keen  disappoint- 
ment. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The    Telegram — As    the    Sun    Went    Down — 
After  Many  Days. 

"Drink  the  dew,  the  dairy  fate  said. 
That  the  poppy  lends  repose 
Mingled  with  the  fragrant  nectar, 
Chaliced  in  the  golden  rose,     . 
Then  she  drank  the  draught  Lethean 
From  the  bowl  with  flowerets  crowned." 

(The  Mystic) 

"Not  love  that  grossly  clings  to  earth, 
But  something  of  diviner  birth. 
That  lifts  the  drooping  soul  afar 
Until  it  twines  Faith  zenith  star." 

(Selected.) 

The  last  days  of  January  had  been  marked  by  a 
belated  snow  storm,  which  had  swept  down  into  the 
sunny  South  from  the  storehouses  of  wintry  bliz- 
zards in  the  bleak  Northwest.  It  had  come,  swift 
and  furious,  from  piling  gray  clouds,  and  had  raged 
for  a  day  and  night ;  then  followed  freezing  tempera- 
ture amid  impotent  sun-rays, 

Ruth  had  enjoyed  that  glimpse  of  Arctic  weather 
and  its  attendant  beauty  of  feathery  snow  wreaths 
fantastically  adorning  the  trees  and  shrubbery. 
When  gray  clouds  were  yet  robing  the  forest  in  tern- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  351 

pered  light,  she  had  gone  forth,  unafraid,  though 
alone,  and  wandered  for  some  time,  to  note  the 
strange,  unreal  charm  of  green  pine-tops  crested 
with  snowflakes;  the  gleaming  holly,  with  its  red 
berries  and  sprangled  leaves,  dusted  and  capped  with 
a  powdery  frosting ;  and  when  the  sun  had  appeared 
in  a  blinding  brilliancy,  lacking  warmth,  in  which 
snow  and  ice  crystals  sparkled  with  a  scintillance  in- 
describable, she  had  gone  down  to  the  bridge  and 
sketched  the  wintry  scene  so  seldom  seen  at  Kissic- 
Dale,  and,  very  evanescent,  she  remembered  from 
her  experience  of  such  late  snow  showers. 

Also  she  had  sketched  the  mansion,  with  its 
eaves  fringed  with  pendant  icicles ;  and  the  pigeons 
clustering  under  the  corniced  corners,  where  the  sun, 
but  not  the  bleak  wind,  could  reach  their  feather- 
robed,  yet  sensitive  bodies.  Her  group  of  sketches 
included  also  glimpses  of  Loch  Lily,  the  spring  and 
dairy,  the  dove-cote  and  rose-garden,  and  were  to 
be  included  in  a  galaxy  of  scenes  environing  the 
cherished  home. 

Her  plan  was  that,  at  her  leisure,  she  could  re- 
embody  them  all  in  oil  and  colors,  and  give  them 
spaces  on  the  walls  of  the  various  halls  and  rooms. 
The  pleasing  occupation  and  the  inspiriting  weather 
had  been  an  unusual  season  of  enjoyment  and  recre- 
ation which  had  deepened  the  rose-tinge  of  her 
cheeks  and  the  pensive  light  of  her  lash-shadowed 
eyes. 

When  the  snow  had  lain  at  its  greatest  depth,  and 
the  glamor  of  an  Arctic,  sunless  atmosphere  had 
given  an  unfamiliar  charm  to  the  landscape  and 
forest,  Charley  Thayer  had  arrived  at  Kissic-Dale, 


352  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

picturesquely  attired  in  hunting  costume,  to  join 
Neil  and  Sandy  MacPharland  in  a  day's  hunt  on 
grounds  to  which  they  would  pilot  him,  where  the 
game  had  not  been  frightened  away  by  the  screech 
of  sawmills  or  the  more  quiet  tread  of  the  turpen- 
tine worker  and  the  Gaelic  husbandman. 

They  returned  at  early  eventide,  bearing  much 
trophy  to  attest  a  most  fruitful  chase ;  and  Jean  was 
presented  with  a  couple  of  wild  turkeys  and  several 
braces  of  birds,  with  the  compliments  of  young 
Thayer,  who  was  to  spend  the  night  as  her  guest. 
He  had  prepared  for  the  event  by  bringing  a  change 
of  dress  in  a  small  valise,  which  he  had  left  in  the 
room  assigned  him  for  the  period  of  the  visit.  After 
supper  he  devoted  himself  almost  exclusively  to 
Jean,  retailing  a  wonderful  amount  of  news  picked 
up  while  he  was  away  during  the  lengthy  midwinter 
holiday ;  but  Jean,  despite  her  interest,  finally  yielded 
to  the  languor  of  a  slight  indisposition  resulting 
from  the  bitter  weather,  and  retired,  though  reluc- 
tantly, leaving  such  congenial  company. 

Ruth,  with  blooming  color  and  a  beauty  enhanced 
by  her  costume  of  a  white  robe  of  heavy,  woolen 
serge,  was  left  to  entertain  him.  He  had  changed 
from  the  corduroy  of  his  hunting  array  to  conven- 
tional clothes;  his  cheeks  were  rosy,  too,  from  ex- 
posure to  the  stinging  winds ;  his  personality  exhaled 
the  freedom  of  the  woods  and  the  exhilaration  of 
successful  sport. 

There  was  an  odorous  twang  to  the  atmosphere 
of  the  warm  parlor,  of  incense  of  geranium  foliage, 
the  aromatic  perfume  of  lemon  verbena  and  Jean's 
cherished,  thrifty  citerina;  the  cozy  seclusion  in  it- 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  353 

self  was  a  delicious  contrast  to  the  harsh  weather 
prevaiHng  beyond  the  draped  windows;  and  life  in 
its  most  buoyant  phase  coursed  the  veins  and  keyed 
the  heart  and  mind  to  roseate  hopes  and 
prophecies. 

Ruth  listened  with  absorbing  interest  to  a  detailed 
account  of  his  chase  of  the  largest  turkey  he  had 
captured ;  and  in  imagination  she  beheld  the  remote 
forest  draped  in  snow  and  the  wily  route  the  bird 
had  led  his  stalking  pursuer,  so  vivid  and  impressive 
was  his  narration  of  the  incident.  But  alas !  other 
ideas  finally  displaced  recollections  of  the  sport,  and 
he  bethought  him  in  that  he  had  a  mission  to  per- 
form, a  message  to  deliver  to  Ruth. 

"I  have  imposed  upon  you  quite  enough,"  he  said, 
apologetically.  "At  this,  my  first  opportunity,  I  wish 
to  show  you  something  that  I  believe  you  will  ap- 
preciate, or,  if  I  am  mistaken,  you  will  pardon  the 
presumption  when  I  sincerely  believed  you  would," 
he  said,  arising  and  excusing  his  absence  from  the 
room  for  a  few  moments. 

Casually,  but  not  acutely,  Ruth  felt  some  curiosity 
as  to  his  meaning;  he  had  twice  spoken  so  earnestly 
regarding  the  thing  he  was  to  bring  her.  She  heard 
him  ascend  the  stairs  to  his  room,  and  then  descend. 
Whatever  it  was,  he  carried  it  in  his  valise,  and  she 
smiled  expectantly  when  he  again  entered  the  room, 
carrying  a  flat  paper-bound  package.  Resuming  his 
seat,  he  unknotted  the  strings,  unfolded  the  paper 
wrappings  and  held  in  his  hands  a  photograph  of 
cabinet  size  and  some  smaller  squares  of  gray  card- 
board. 

"This,  Miss  MacKenzie,"  he  said,  and  laid  the  pic- 


354  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

ture  before  her  with  a  knightly  air  of  self-abnega- 
tion, evincing  an  unconscious  heroism,  "is  what  I 
felt  you  would  esteem  most ;  and  these  are  simply 
accessories  of  the  main  subject." 

Smiling  and  unprophetic,  Ruth  leaned  to  take  up 
the  photo  lying  upon  the  chair  Jean  had  recently 
vacated  and  not  yet  removed  to  its  usual  position. 
In  an  instant,  she  recoiled  with  an  irrepressible  cry 
of  dismay  and  horror,  for  Edwin  Phillips,  as  he 
had  appeared  in  the  days  when  she  knew  him,  had 
smiled  into  her  eyes  with  the  winning  charm  and 
gay  insoucience  of  literal  life  and  presence.  But  not 
as  a  living  spirit,  or  a  shadow  of  a  wholesome  life, 
charmingly  individual  in  its  days  of  activity,  but  as 
a  gruesome  spectre  emerging  from  the  lurid  depths 
of  a  dead  past,  of  another  world,  so  alien  they 
seemed  to  any  normal  experience,  the  well-remem- 
bered, but  vaguely  placed  features  that  stared  at  her 
from  the  background  of  chemically-tinted  paper  and 
cardboard. 

If  he  had  come  forth  bodily  from  his  grave  and 
confronted  her,  she  would  have  been  hardly  less 
shocked  or  repulsed.  She  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  instinctively,  the  victim  of  indefinable  fear 
and  repugnance ;  thus  for  some  time  she  curtained 
vision  in  a  speechless  panic  of  weakness  and  dis- 
composure, and  he  sat  rigid  and  undecided  in  his 
estimate  of  her  emotion,  whether  it  was  an  excess  of 
joy  and  appreciation,  an  ecstacy  of  reawakened  im- 
pressions, or  a  frenzied  shrinking  from  a  once  be- 
loved object.  Anyway,  it  was  a  test  he  had  long 
planned,  to  prove  if  her  confessed  devotion  to  the 
memory  of  his  cousin  was  real  and  inviolable,  or  a 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  355 

fancied  conviction  resulting  from  morbid  reaction 
following  poignant  grief  and  disappointment. 

"Oh,  take  it  away,  please !"  Ruth  begged,  in 
tremulous  accents,  and  he  noted  that  her  lips  were 
white  and  her  fingers  quivering,  as  they  pressed 
down  the  lids  to  securely  drape  her  sight. 

"Oh,  what  have  I  done?"  he  exclaimed  in  genuine 
remorse  and  self-reproach,  as  he  snatched  up  the 
cardboards  and  hastily  bestowed  them  in  their 
wrappings.  "I  believed  that,  perhaps,  you  would  be 
overjoyed  to  see  such  a  good  resemblance  of  Edwin. 
You  told  me  how  you  had  cherished  his  memory  all 
the  long  years ;  that  at  times  you  had  almost  gone 
mad  with  the  longing  to  behold  him  again ;  if  but  for 
one  inestimable  moment ;  that  you  had  been  so  abject 
in  your  loneliness,  you  would  have  esteemed  it  the 
greatest  privilege  to  go  to  his  grave  and  kneeling, 
kiss  the  turf  that  robed  it ;  that  your  most  intense 
desire  had  often  been  to  find  his  grave  and  die  beside 
it ;  that,"  he  related  with  lips  as  white  and  immobile 
as  her  own,  "often  you  had  thought  of  his  wooing 
voice  and  pleading  eyes,  which  had  never  for  a  day 
ceased  to  haunt  you  with  their  enchantment  and  in- 
fluence !" 

"Hush,  please,"  Ruth  entreated,  as  her  hands 
dropped  from  her  eyes  and  she  lifted  a  wan  counten- 
ance to  plead  for  mercy.  Her  eyes,  dazed  and 
clouded,  swept  the  room  and  then  embraced  him  in  a 
steady  glance  that  deepened  into  returning  com- 
posure, and  said : 

"I  was  insane  to  say  such  things  to  you,  and  so 
you  must  have  esteemed  me." 

"No,  you  were  simply  sincere,  but  I  firmly  believe 


356  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

mistaken  in  your  judgment  of  self,"  he  replied,  in 
convincing  tones.  "Another  thing,  you  wished  to 
crush  in  its  inception  my  deluded  love  and  devotion." 

She  made  no  denial  to  any  of  his  assertions,  but  at 
his  last  words  her  eyes  fell  and  the  color  crept  to 
her  cheeks,  vivid  and  burning.  Restlessly  she  reached 
and  plucked  a  spray  of  citerina  and  crushed  the 
scented  leaves  to  press  them  to  her  lips  that  she 
might  breathe  their  refreshing  aroma,  for  she  was 
faint  and  ill,  and  fighting  to  subjugate  revulsive 
sensations.  He  put  aside  the  package  and  took  the 
seat  beside  her. 

"I  secured  a  camera  and  photographed  those 
scenes  that  I  have  not  shown  you ;  and  I  saw  his 
mother.  We  talked  a  great  deal  about  Edwin,  and 
she  admitted  that  he  married  Maude  very  reluc- 
tantly. At  the  time  she  assigned  his  hesitancy  to  the 
fact  that  his  bride-to-be  was  so  fond  of  flirting.  She 
married  in  less  than  a  year  after  he  died ;  they 
deemed  it  unseemly,  and  have  never  liked  her  since," 
he  concluded,  noting  that  Ruth  sat  with  drooping 
lashes  and  pathetically  set  lips ;  and  that  all  the 
sparkle  and  pleasure  of  her  recent  buoyant  mood  had 
been  dissipated. 

She  had  heard  him  so  dispassionately  and  with 
such  an  impersonal  interest,  he  restlessly  arose,  and, 
going  to  the  piano,  opened  it  with  characteristic  im- 
pulse, and  said,  ingratiatingly:  "Shall  I  play  for 
you?" 

"If  you  choose,"  Ruth  murmured,  with  polite 
acquiescence.  She  also  arose  and  moved  her  seat  to 
a  more  retired  position,  and  sat  facing  the  instru- 
ment, with  her  hands  clasped  listlessly  upon  her  lap, 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  357 

her  head  reclining  languidly  against  the  glistening 
satin  of  the  upholstered  chair.  He  viewed  her,  pon- 
deringly,  his  eyes  alight  with  a  brooding  tenderness. 
He  touched  the  keys  absently,  still  watching  her  and 
deliberating,  his  heart  so  aching  with  its  burden  of 
suspense  he  felt  ill  and  overwhelmed  in  what  he 
deemed  a  crisis. 

With  wistful  chivalry,  he  sprang  up  and  found  an 
ottoman  to  place  for  a  rest  for  her  feet.  She  ac- 
cepted it  with  an  aloof  expression  of  thanks  for  his 
consideration.  He  paused  a  moment  irresolutely, 
and  then,  with  a  tremulous  intake  of  breath,  re- 
turned to  the  instrument.  She  would  not  or  could 
not  assume  cordial  relations  with  him.  "I  am  going 
to  play  the  best  I  can.  Miss  MacKenzie,  and  if  it  in 
the  least  wearies  you,  do  not  hesitate  to  say  so.  I  live 
but  to  serve  you,  now  and  all  the  time,  remember." 

She  inclined  her  head  and  smiled,  but  the  smile 
was  as  lifeless  and  as  cold  in  seeming  as  white  moon- 
light upon  whiter  snow. 

His  music,  though  impressive  and  always  appeal- 
ing, was  strictly  extempore,  improvisations  for  the 
rendering  of  any  topical  melody  or  snatch  of  opera 
that  pleased  his  fancy ;  but  his  mood  did  not  incline 
to  dancing  or  rollicking  measures,  as  it  was  at  times 
wont  to  do ;  instead,  he  touched  the  keys  dreamily, 
and  played  old  love  songs  to  minor  chords  and 
cadences.  He  sang,  softly,  but  distinctly,  innumer- 
able verses  of  melodious  rhymes,  all  breathing  devo- 
tion, longing  and  sacrifice  for  the  beloved  object; 
and  his  facile  voice  rendered  to  the  simplest  words 
and  sentiment  a  pathos  of  expression  that  assailed 
her  heart  with  ineffable  wooing  and  promise. 


358  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

And,  as  he  sang  on  and  on,  gliding  from  one 
melody  into  another,  sometimes  without  a  pause  at 
the  change  of  harmony,  Ruth  sat  in  passive  silence, 
so  still,  that  at  intervals  she  was  rigid  in  a  frowning 
pose  of  concentrated  depression. 

Finally  his  voice  grew  husky  and  strained,  and  at 
last  it  was  strangled  into  silence.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and,  arising,  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets  to  stride  about  the  room,  aimlessly  scanning 
bric-a-brac  and  portraits,  or  any  object  that  might 
serve  as  a  welcome  diversion  from  the  seething  tur- 
bulence of  his  heart.  When  finally  he  paused  beside 
her,  Ruth  lifted  her  eyes  and  beheld  him  with  a  for- 
tuitous vision  that  embraced,  spiritlessly,  the  irre- 
pressible agitation  of  his  movements. 

She  vaguely  hoped  that  he  would  retire  at  once, 
she  craved  so  much  to  be  alone,  to  singly  and  des- 
perately fight  her  way  back  to  normal  feeling  and 
composure.  Yet  she  had  no  strength  to  suggest  it, 
no  art  to  pass  over  the  crisis  of  the  moment  and 
reserve  for  future  solitude  the  snapping  of  her  taut 
nerves  into  a  healing  collapse  from  the  strain  she 
w^as  bearing  so  ingloriously.  Her  Gaelic  tempera- 
ment forbade  light  behavior  where  vital  issues  were 
concerned ;  so  she  stared  at  him  stolidly,  as  he  swept 
her  feet  from  the  foot-stool  and  sank  upon  it,  in  a 
dramatic  posture  of  appeal  and  adoration. 

"My  beloved,"  he  appealed,  in  broken  tones,  "I 
must  tell  you  how  much  I  love  you !  The  repression 
has  grown  a  torture  that  I  can  no  longer  endure. 
Despise  me,  spurn  me,  if  you  will,  still  I  must  speak 
and  tell  you  of  the  wonderful  joy  I  experience  in 
loving  you.    And  it  is  so  much  like  loving  an  angel, 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  359 

dearest,  so  far  you  seem  above  me,  so  different  from 
anyone  else  I  have  ever  known.  I  loved  you  the 
first  moment  I  ever  beheld  you,  and  I  have  loved 
you  every  moment  since,  with  a  love  that  deepens 
each  time  I  behold  you." 

He  grasped  her  hands  and  imprisoned  them  in  his 
own  and  laid  his  cheek  against  them  with  a  caress 
intensely  yearning  and  pleading.  That  was  the  be- 
ginning of  his  plea,  which  ran  the  gamut  of  the 
emotions  of  his  enslaved  heart.  Ruth  was  impelled 
to  listen  to  the  faltering  torrent  of  protestations  of 
love,  devotion  and  admiration.  He  was  desperately 
sincere  and  very  eloquent,  and  she  required  all  of 
her  depleted  strength  and  strategy  of  mind  to  resist 
the  flood  of  pleading  with  which  he  besieged  her 
heart  and  bombarded  her  resolute  prejudices  against 
the  wily  god  Eros. 

But  she  did  withstand  the  assault  without  once 
lowering  the  ensign  of  her  fortified  heart,  or  so  she 
believed,  when  she  had  gently  but  firmly  closed  the 
interview  and  dismissed  him  to  his  room.  He  had 
not  obeyed  with  the  abject  docility  of  a  rejected 
lover,  but  had,  in  the  final  moments,  asserted  his 
right  to  be  heard  and  given  consideration. 

"Be  kind  and  merciful,"  he  adjured  her  in  wooing 
accents,  which  held  an  element  of  command.  "Be 
humane  to  me,  as  you  are  to  every  other  creature 
who  falls  in  the  way  of  your  sympathy,  and  I  will 
beg  that  you  do  not  let  me  suffer  for  the  sins  and 
cowardice  of  another !" 

He  had  drawn  himself  erect  and  stood  before  her, 
strong  and  courageous,  handsome  and  impellingly 
winning.    Yet,  dumbly,  apathetically,  she  could  only 


360  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

bid  him  go  and  await  a  more  befitting  season  to  dis- 
cuss so  vital  a  subject. 

When  he  had  gone,  she  listened  dully,  until  his  last 
muffled  footstep  had  ceased  to  echo  along  the  upper 
hallway ;  then  she  bowed  her  face  into  her  cold 
hands  and  sobbed  a  few  aching  breaths,  while  her 
eyes  smarted  with  a  dry,  blasting  dearth  of  tears. 

Afterward,  she  attended  to  the  fire  and  the  fasten- 
ings of  the  windows,  for  she  had  sent  Iphogenia  to 
bed  to  seek  a  cure  for  an  acute  headache  earlier  in 
the  evening.  Also,  she  extinguished  all  the  lights  ere 
she  repaired  to  her  own  apartments,  where  she 
found  the  maid  asleep  in  her  boudoir  on  a  folding 
couch  she  was  accustomed  to  occupy  since  Ruth, 
years  previously,  had  taken  rooms  on  the  second 
floor.  Logs  glowed  with  heat  upon  the  hearth  of 
that  and  also  her  bedraom,  which  she  entered  and 
noiselessly  closed  the  door.    At  last  she  was  alone. 

The  following  morning  she  slept  late,  much  later 
than  was  her  habit ;  but  it  was  a  rule  of  the  house 
that  she  was  not  to  be  awakened  unless  some  special 
reason  demanded  it.  It  had  been  well  on  toward 
morning  ere  real  slumber  had  reinstated  normal 
poise  and  feeling  When  she  came  down  it  was  near 
to  nine  o'clock,  and  she  was  informed  that  Thayer 
had  breakfasted  and  departed.  She  was  much  re- 
lieved that  she  did  not  have  to  meet  him ;  she  hoped 
that  the  events  of  the  past  night  might  lie  far  in  the 
background  of  happenings,  ere  she  should  be  forced 
to  confront  the  issue  of  his  suit  again.  In  the  mean- 
time, she  welcomed  the  diversion  of  work  and  the 
discharge  of  homely  duties ;  they  were  an  antidote 
to  unrest  that  she  had  found  infallible. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF     THE     HIGHLANDERS  361 

Nothing  else  presenting  its  claims,  she  spent  the 
day  in  her  studio  with  her  pets  for  company.  She 
had  found  it  extremely  cozy  out  there  in  the  pagoda- 
shaped  building,  and  she  labored  desultorily.  That 
morning  the  first  signals  of  an  impending  thaw  had 
appeared  in  an  abatement  of  the  intense  cold,  which 
had  held  the  welcomed  snubeams  in  a  chill  paralysis 
the  previous  afternoon.  The  mid-day  had  been  a 
scene  of  uncomfortable  slush,  and  the  afternoon 
marked  by  a  raw  atmosphere. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  short  day,  although  a 
keen  frost  was  being  evolved  by  the  chill  of  ap- 
proaching eventide,  the  interior  of  her  artistic  re- 
treat held  summer  warmth  and  balminess. 

Amidst  the  warmth  and  luxury  so  vivid  they 
transformed  the  intruding  wintry  sunlight  into  trop- 
ical radiance,  Ruth  was  the  fairest  object,  her  living 
charms  far  exceeding  the  tediously  achieved,  artistic 
features.  She  was  again  robed  in  the  house  gown 
of  white  serge,  which  fell  in  classical  folds  and  was 
girdled  by  a  large  cord  with  depending  tassels  of 
yellow-stranded  silk,  matching  her  hair,  and  the 
silken  bands  adorning  her  robe,  which  showed 
Oriental  touches  in  flowing  sleeves  and  rounded 
collar. 

It  had  been  an  unusually  dull  day  in  spite  of  her 
determination  to  lose  thought  in  tasking  labor ;  some 
occult  influence  seemed  to  enslave  her  mind  and  rob 
her  hands  of  their  wonted  skill.  Valiantly,  many 
times,  she  had  brushed  the  web  of  fancy  from  her 
brain  and  applied  herself  diligently  to  the  task  she 
had  assumed,  still  she  was  unmistakably  idle. 

As  the  afternoon  waned,  she  left  her  easel  and 


362  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

abandoned  the  futile  endeavor  to  work.  In  the  ener- 
vating warmth  of  the  glowing  fire,  she  reclined  in  a 
low  chair,  that  wooed  her  to  restful  repose  with  its 
seducing  comfort,  while  the  frosts  of  approaching 
evening  fell  prematurely  over  the  world  beyond  the 
transparent,  screening  windows ;  and  purple  cloud- 
wracks  came  creeping  in  cheerless  detachments  from 
the  ruling  northwest  to  trail  luridly  over  the  pale, 
lustreless  sky. 

Of  outdoor  conditions,  though,  she  soon  became 
oblivious,  as,  with  closed  eyes,  she  lived  an  inner, 
sub-conscious  life  among  memories  and  recent 
events.  She  neither  judged  nor  analyzed  those  per- 
tinent phases  of  experience,  so  evanescent  in  reality 
of  time,  but  so  tenacious  in  their  influence  upon 
heart-recollections. 

As  her  languor  deepened  in  the  soothing  relaxa- 
tion from  forced  effort,  she  found  that  every  train 
of  thought  converged  persistently  to  the  moments 
spent  with  Charley  Thayer  in  the  parlor  the  previous 
evening.  All  day,  she  had  thrust  aside  such  mem- 
ories, recoiling  sensitively  from  the  remembrance  of 
what  she  had  suffered.  Last  night  she  had  kindly 
but  firmly  repulsed  his  ardor,  and  the  flood  of  his 
protestations  had  not  moved  her  from  a  position  of 
unreceptiveness  and  deprecation ;  she  had  been  able 
to  sustain  the  calm,  platonic  regard  she  had  long 
since  tendered  him. 

Perhaps  it  had  been  that  just  then  her  feelings  had 
been  freshly  seared  with  the  blasting  flame  of  the 
remembrance  of  Edwin's  duplicity  and  her  youthful 
trust  and  faith;  and  the  morbid  revulsion  of  a 
wounded  heart  had  at  that  time  alloyed  her  finer 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  363 

sensibilities ;  but  now  life  flooded  to  high  tide, 
emotionally  sweet  and  pure,  embodying  in  most 
alluring  charm  the  hour  she  had  listened  to  the 
pleading  of  her  enraptured  lover  and  beheld  his  love 
for  her  as  a  poignant  flame  kindled  by  some  irre- 
sistible charm  she  had  exerted  so  unwillingly. 

The  comforting  warmth  and  idealistic  sensations 
so  exorcised  the  rasping  tension  of  her  nerves,  the 
aftermath  of  the  experience  of  ihe  previous  night, 
she  finally  lost  consciousness  for  an  interval  in  which 
her  brain  sustained  the  emotional  pleasures  of  her 
day-dreaming. 

No  clouds  flecked  the  radiant  azure  of  the  sky 
doming  the  realm  of  slumber ;  no  thorns  grew  among 
the  roses  of  joy  blooming  in  that  blissful  dreamland 
where  she  was  blithe  of  mind  and  heart-joyous,  as 
she  had  been  in  that  ideal  springtime  seven  years 
agone ;  but  it  was  not  Donald,  Jamie  or  Edwin 
Phillips  with  whom  she  skipped  through  the  pines 
seeking  ferns  and  arbutus  and  wafted  hither  and  yon 
in  the  roseate  symphony  of  life's  pure  morning. 

Bonny  Charley  Thayer  held  her  hand  and  guided 
her  through  labyrinths  of  flower-hedged  ways, 
sharing  her  joy  as  she  heeded  the  rippling  of 
crystal  waters ;  the  glad  strains  of  bird-music ;  the 
sweet,  mysterious  runing  of  the  pines  voiced  by 
languishing  zephyrs.  His  hand  had  wiped  away 
all  her  tears,  the  warm  flame  of  his  love  had  dis- 
solved the  stony  grief  barring  the  fount  of  Hope 
and  Happiness.  Bravely,  hand  in  hand,  they  were 
dancing  up  the  broad,  love-lit  vista  leading  through 
a  radiant  distance  to  the  flower-crowned  mount  of 
beatitude,  the  vine-draped  "Bowers  of  Bliss." 


364  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

The  clock  on  the  velvet-draped  mantel  chimed  one 
resonant,  musical  note,  marking  half -past  five  of  the 
short  winter  day  as  she  awoke,  dazed  and  translated 
from  the  time  preceding  her  dream-haunted  slum- 
ber. The  sun  sinking  into  purple  vapors  infused 
transitory  color  and  implied  warmth  into  the  drab 
pall  of  the  overcast  sky;  the  rainbow-light  streamed 
through  the  windows,  over  the  bright  furnishings  of 
the  room,  the  picture-draped  walls ;  and  the  birds 
greeted  it  with  a  burst  of  song  more  vociferous  than 
the  warblings  which  had  mingled  with  the  features 
of  the  phantasms  of  her  dream ;  the  parrot,  with  a 
peevish  cry  for  outdoor  freedom ;  muffet  aroused 
from  her  repose  upon  the  rug  at  Ruth's  feet, 
stretched  and  yawned  and  then  resumed  her  rest 
supinely  when  her  mistress  had  clasped  her  hands 
behind  her  head  and  sat  motionless,  brooding  the 
gasping  coals  with  introspective  eyes. 

Finally  some  thought  or  conclusion  smote  Ruth's 
consciousness  with  a  rebuke  so  material  and  per- 
tinent it  dispelled  the  illusions  of  a  fanciful  happi- 
ness, and  she  arose  and  moved  restlessly  to  a  win- 
dow and  threw  up  the  sash,  to  lean  upon  the  sill  and 
breathe  thirstily  the  crisp,  frosty  air,  as  more  suited 
to  the  lungs  of  a  daughter  of  the  logically-minded 
Highlanders,  the  self-elected  priestess  nourishing 
the  fires  on  the  altars  of  the  temples  of  her  "Manes," 
than  the  flower-scented,  dream-evocative  warmth  of 
the  interior. 

As  she  had  passed  a  full-length  mirror  set  as  a 
panel  in  the  rear  of  a  niche  in  the  wall,  she  had  been 
arrested  by  the  very  obvious  beauty  of  her  reflec- 
tion;  the  pose  of  her  erect,  gracefully-lined  figure, 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  365 

draped  in  the  clinging  robe  of  white  serge,  her  rose- 
red  cheeks,  the  pensive  beauty  of  her  violet-tinged 
eyes  secluded  by  long,  silky  lashes,  her  classical 
features,  still  youthfully  artless  in  their  perfect 
molding,  their  creamy  texture  and  delicate  tinting; 
and  the  crown  of  gleaming,  golden  hair  she  had 
long  ago  appreciated  as  the  rarest  gift  of  the  fairy 
godmother,  whose  magic  wand  had  touched  her 
cradle  so  graciously. 

She  had  felt  a  temptation  to  lean  and  kiss  the 
alluring  vision  the  mirror  framed  so  enticingly, 
caress  it  for  the  sake  of  Charley  Thayer's  avowed 
worship  of  its  charm ;  but  under  the  spur  of  the  con- 
clusion she  refrained  from  the  impulse  with  a  re- 
assertion  of  the  stoical  training  of  her  heart  and 
impulses.  Stolidly  she  faced  the  keen,  cold  pinge  of 
the  raw,  gray  atmosphere  of  the  bleak  eveningtide. 

In  the  west,  a  low  line  of  deeply-tinted,  purple 
horizon  was  edged  by  a  prim  bordering  of  orange- 
ated  hues.  The  sun,  shrouded  and  lurid,  was  sinking 
into  its  enveloping  vapors  as  a  red  disk  disappear- 
ing in  the  repelling  cold  depths  of  a  Northern  lake. 
The  soil  of  the  orchard  was  dark  and  damp,  and  the 
increasing  frost  was  sheathing  its  surface  with  a 
crust  of  congealed  moisture.  The  snow  lay  in  small 
patches  on  the  northern  side  of  each  tree,  whose  bare 
limbs  posed  as  quaint  network  against  a  steely  sky. 
"Oh,  youth,  youth,"  she  breathed,  in  a  pathos  of 
regret  and  yearning,  in  a  hopeless  rebellion  that  time 
robs  the  heart  of  faith  in  sublunary  felicity,  "what  a 
radiant  sweet  thing  you  are  !" 

With  the  lifting  of  the  broad  sash,  she  had  braced 
her  warm,  nerve-threaded  form  to  meet  the  rasping 


366  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

chill  of  Nature's  harshest,  most  repellant  mood ;  in 
the  stern  immensity  of  the  Arctic-ruled  universe,  the 
art-arrayed,  sensuously  appointed  interior  of  her 
studio  was  as  an  exotic  in  the  incisive  mercilessness 
of  the  scheme  of  creation.  Resting  between  the  two 
extremes  she  balanced  soul  and  life  upon  the  veering 
border-line  of  things  that  were,  that  are,  and  will 
be,  and  a  span  as  frail  and  fleeting  as  an  irridescent 
soap-bubble. 

How  still  and  solemn  seemed  the  familiar  things 
in  their  bare,  unadorned  estate !  The  winter's  thrall 
seemed  to  be  a  portent  of  waiting,  of  patience  per- 
meated with  prescience ! 

No  living  thing  seemed  to  be  abroad  but  David, 
pursuing  a  stray  turkey  he  was  endeavoring  to  drive 
perchward ;  David,  in  a  long  coat  that  was  flapping 
his  heels,  as  the  dazed  fowl  led  him  aimlessly;  his 
boots  crunched  the  frost-rime,  giving  constant  fright 
to  the  witless  creature. 

While  she  dreamily  viewed  their  wild  detouring, 
insensibly  recalling  the  chase  so  interestingly  por- 
trayed by  Charley  Thayer's  musical  tones,  the  sun 
dipped  so  deep  into  the  imperial-tinted  cloud-bank, 
its  rays  were  entirely  extinguished. 

It  was  then  hoof -beats  cleft  the  resonant  air,  as 
a  man  on  horseback  galloped  down  the  cherry-lane 
and  unceremoniously  alighting  at  the  gate,  threw  his 
bridle  rein  over  a  post  of  the  iron  fence,  and  entered 
the  lawn.  He  had  discovered  Ruth  at  the  window, 
and  he  came  direct  to  her,  fumbling,  as  he  came,  in 
his  overcoat  pocket. 

She  awaited  his  approach  without  apprehension, 
although  he  was  spattered  with  black  mud  and  his 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  367 

horse  panted  heavingly,  as  it  stood  with  lowered 
head  beyond  the  fence.  Her  thought  was,  that  some- 
one needy  or  ill,  out  in  the  forest,  had  sent  to  her  for 
succor.  She  was  surprised  but  not  frightened,  when 
he  drew  forth  a  telegram  and  passed  it  up  to  her  out- 
stretched hand.  She  laid  it  aside  unopened,  her  mind 
engaged  with  concern  for  the  plight  of  the  man  and 
his  hard-ridden  animal. 

"Will  you  not  go  around  the  corner  there  and 
make  your  presence  known,  that  someone  may  at- 
tend to  your  comfort  and  see  after  your  horses?"  she 
urged  him,  hospitably. 

"No,  but  I  thank  you  just  the  same.  I  am  cousin 
to  Sandy's  wife,  and  will  go  up  there  and  spend  the 
night,"  the  man  returned,  deferentially. 

"Tell  Sandy  to  pay  you  five  dollars  for  me.  I 
have  no  money  with  me  just  now,"  she  called  to  him, 
as  he  was  hurrying  back  to  the  gate.  Closing  the 
window,  she  found  and  opened  the  telegram,  still 
with  no  premonition  that  it  could  affect  her  in  any 
serious  manner. 

"Donald  not  expected  to  live !  Pneumonia.  Begs 
for  you.    Come. 

"JAMIE." 

So  read  the  message  scrawled  upon  the  yellow 
slip;  and  she  did  not  repeat  the  first  reading  of  it; 
each  uncouth  character  was  impaled  in  the  perspec- 
tive of  her  mind  a  sluminous  words  upon  a  trans- 
parency. 

With  a  composure  that  was  the  antipode  of  real 
tranquility  she  returned  to  the  perfumed  warmth  of 


368  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

her  treasured  refuge;  for  a  refuge  and  haven  it  had 
been  to  her  soul,  nestHng  it  when  it  cried  aloud  in 
longing,  nurturing  it  in  its  effort  to  put  forth  ideal- 
istic growths  and  aspirations,  shielding  it  from  tem- 
pest and  drouth,  even  as  the  house  walls  warded  its 
inmates  from  the  blight  and  inclemency  of  varying 
weather.  She  came  back  to  the  hearth  and  laid  some 
billets  of  rich  pine  upon  the  dying  coals,  that  greater 
warmth  might  check  the  creeping  chill  stealing 
through  her  veins  so  sinuously ;  and  some  instinct 
was  warning  her  that  the  heart-encircling  thrill  was 
the  approach  of  stolid-eyed  Fate,  haling  her  to  one 
of  the  inquisitorial  bridges  which  span  crucial  gaps 
in  tyrannical-hearted  Destiny. 

With  a  tremulous  sigh  of  helplessness  she 
stretched  her  cold  hands  out  to  meet  the  genial  flame, 
as  if  it  was  an  aid  to  needed  self-control  in  the  first 
numb  shock  of  an  impending  crisis ;  that  unforeseen 
climax  to  her  habit  of  apathetic  peace  and  procras- 
tination. Her  nerves  were  taut  in  a  rigid  endurance 
of  the  first  sensations  of  an  acute  and  intolerable 
suspense. 

Donald  in  extremis  and  calling  for  her !  Giving 
the  last  cry  of  his  hungry  heart,  that  had  famished 
for  seven  eventful  years,  never  faltering,  that  she 
knew,  even  in  the  forlorn  depths  of  unsolaced  dis- 
couragement, in  his  hope  and  desire  to  win  her ;  but 
for  the  first  time  his  appeal  had  probed  deep  into  her 
soul  and  aroused  there  its  first  conjugal  impulse  and 
an  overweening  tenderness  for  the  strong,  heroic 
man,  stricken  to  such  a  weakness ;  he  had  cast  aside 
all  fear,  and  boldly  demanded  her  presence  as  his 
soul's  supreme  absolution. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  369 

The  silver-voiced  clock  ruled  off  the  fleeting  mo- 
ments; twilight  crept  through  the  unshaded  win- 
dows, the  parrot  and  the  birds  tucked  their  heads 
beneath  their  wings,  docile  to  the  neglect  accorded 
them,  so  unwontedly,  as  step  by  step  she  approached 
the  Rubicon,  which,  when  she  had  passed  over,  she 
could  never  recross  back  into  the  life  she  would  then 
renounce  forever. 

With  straining  memory,  she  went  back  to  that 
springtime,  peering  among  its  Arcadian  incidents  to 
scrutinize  Donald,  whose  personality  had  been  so 
overshadowed  by  the  more  brilliant  one  of  Edwin 
Phillips ;  and  among  the  events  of  all  the  succeeding 
years  to  trace  her  platonic  affection  for  him,  her 
esteem  of  him  and  his  achievement;  and  in  the  re- 
vealing light  of  her  present  acute  sympathy,  thf 
scrutiny  incarnated  the  sum  of  all  her  recollections 
into  an  impelling  lure  of  race,  of  fealty  to  a  vow- 
she  had  never  contemplated  as  being  so  affected  by 
circumstances  as  to  feel  compelled  to  fulfill  it,  in 
that  she  was  done  forever  with  the  game  of  love 
and  its  attendant  demands  upon  faith  and  devotion. 

Nevertheless,  she  was  vowed  to  Donald.  It  was 
all  she  could  do  in  atonement  for  winning  his  heart, 
all  the  comfort  give  him  in  his  professed  loneliness 
and  longing.  Year  by  year,  she  had  waited  expect- 
antly, that  his  own  defection  would  free  her  from 
the  nominal  obligation ;  but  time  had  seemed  to  con- 
firm him  in  his  first  belief  that  she  alone  could  com- 
mand his  heart  and  render  him  happy. 

He  had  been  too  busy  to  trouble  her  often  with  his 
suit,  so  it  had  been  easy  to  let  their  relations  stand 
on  a  tentative  basis  until  this — until  Charley  Thayer 


370  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

came  to  reawaken  from  their  death-like  torpor 
golden  dreams  and  youth's  glad  promise  of  love  re- 
quited. 

She  was  aroused  by  Iphogenia's  entering  to  in- 
quire if  she  had  heard  the  supper  bell,  which  had 
rang  some  time  ago.  She  had  not  heard  it  or  thought 
of  the  evening  meal.  She  was  not  hungry,  so  she 
sent  word  to  Jean  not  to  wait  for  her. 

"And  say  to  her  to  please  send  for  Kathy,  that  I 
must  see  her  immediately ;  and  ask  her  to  come  out 
here  when  she  is  quite  through  with  supper ;  not 
until  then,  remember,"  she  enjoined  the  maid  as 
calmly  and  rationally  as  if  that  yellow  slip  of  paper 
had  never  been  handed  to  her  through  the  window. 

"Shall  I  take  the  birds  to  your  room?"  Iphogenia 
suggested,  as  she  pulled  down  the  central  hanging 
lamp,  gorgeous  with  decorated  shade  and  trappings 
of  silver  chains  and  glass  pendants. 

"If  you  please,"  Ruth  murmured,  retreating  from 
the  light  cast  upon  her  features.  With  cold,  tremu- 
lous hands,  she  wrapped  a  cloth  about  one  of  the 
cages  of  canaries  and  passed  it  to  the  maid,  who  held 
the  other  as  Polly,  grumbling  peevishly,  clung  to  hei 
shoulder. 

"Listen,"  Ruth  repeated.  "You  are  to  send  foi 
Kathy,  and  when  Aunt  Jean  is  at  leisure  you  are  to 
ask  her  to  come  to  me  here ;  and  you  may  keep 
something  warm  for  me ;  I  may  be  hungry  later." 

She  succeeded   in   dismissing  the   faithful   Ipho 
genia  without  arousing  her  rather  obtuse  curiosity. 

It  was  when  the  door  closed  finally  and  she  wa:^ 
again  alone  in  the  room  brilliantly  lighted  and  en- 
chaining her  with  the  vision  of  the  objects  upon 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  371 

which  she  had  lavished  such  labor  and  devotion,  that 
realization  of  the  crisis  forced  upon  her  came  with 
the  sharp  incisive  pain  of  bereavement  or  renunci- 
ation. 

"Oh,  last  night,  to-day,  and  then  this !"  she  cried, 
wringing  her  hands  and  distraught  with  the  pressure 
burdening  the  moment.  If  she  went  to  Donald, — 
and  go  she  must— it  would  be  a  public,  irrevocable 
declaration  of  the  bond  between  them.  If  he  lived, 
she  must  marry  him  at  once  and  plunge  into  a 
strange  new  world,  for  which  she  could  not  feel  the 
slightest  affinity.  If  he  died — he  died — the  sugges- 
tion of  such  an  issue  chilled  her  heart  with  horror 
and  bereavement,  such  a  fear  and  revulsion,  she 
paced  the  room  in  uncontrollable  agitation ;  the 
thought  of  such  a  thing  was  too  agonizing  to  enter- 
tain a  moment. 

So  acute  was  the  anxiety  aroused  by  such  a  sup- 
position, she  restlessly  drew  aside  the  drapery  from 
the  connecting  archway,  ran  into  her  library  and 
knelt  before  Donald's  portrait  with  clasped  hands 
and  pleading  lips,  her  face  upturned  to  the  pictured 
countenance  plainly  revealed  in  a  bar  of  light  cast 
through  the  archway  by  the  swinging  lamp  Ipho- 
genia  had  lighted. 

"Oh,  Donald,  you  must  not  die !  I  cannot  bear  it, 
Donald !  I  will  come  to  you ;  I  will  give  my  soul  to 
save  you !  Oh,  Donald,  live  until  I  get  there  and  I 
will  save  you.  I  will  not  let  you  die !"  she  prayed 
in  an  abject  fervor  of  self-immolation  and  forgetful- 
ness.  It  seemed  to  her  his  insensate  shadow  heard 
and  understood  the  stress  which  had  so  completely 
unnerved  her. 


372        A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

"You  will  live  and  be  good  to  me,  will  you  not, 
Donald?"  she  appealed,  with  tears  streaming  over 
her  cheeks,  her  form  rent  with  sobs,  which  convulsed 
her  breathing.  "I  am  afraid,  Donald,  more  afraid 
than  ever  in  my  life  before,  but  you  will  be  kind  and 
patient,  and  merciful  to  poor  little  Ruth,  will  you 
not,  Donald  ?" 

Tears  finally  submerged  utterance,  and  she  could 
only  sob  disconsolately,  each  laboring  breath  a 
prayer  for  help  and  guidance  on  the  unknown  sea 
upon  which  she  was  about  to  launch  her  sensitive 
barque  of  life.  She  would  not  consider  any  con- 
tingency pointing  to  Donald's  non-survival ;  in  view 
of  that,  her  own  death  seemed  preferable;  any  ar- 
rangement except  that,  any  sacrifice  that  she  could 
lay  upon  any  propitiating  altar. 

At  length  her  tears  were  spent,  even  as  the 
strongest  emotion  attains  its  ebb-tide  point  and  re- 
cedes into  a  lifeless  calm  where  the  mind  rests  apa- 
thetic and  reviews  its  stress.  For  some  moments 
Ruth  bowed  her  head  as  unconscious  sighs  followed 
her  tempestuous  sobbing  in  diminishing  frequency ; 
and  in  the  lull  of  the  spent  storm  of  heart-bursting 
agitation,  the  still,  small  voice  of  memory  intruded, 
reminding  her  what  the  situation  portended  and  its 
lack. 

"Oh,  last  night,  to-day,  and  then  this !"  she  re- 
iterated with  a  wailing  sigh  of  remembrance.  Truly, 
Fate  was  throwing  its  shuttle  fast  and  furious  to  fill 
out  the  web  of  her  destiny !  Was  it  last  night 
Charley  Thayer  was  singing  and  she  was  submerged 
in  the  bitter  regret  of  a  blighted  youth  ;  singing  those 
dear,  old  heart  songs,  his  eyes  speaking  his  own 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS  Z7Z 

ardor  and  devotion?     She  bent  the  ear  of  memory 
to  hear  again  his  silver-hited  voice  sing : 

"My  love  is  young  and  fair, 
My  love  hath  golden  hair; 
And  eyes  so  blue! 
And  heart  so  true! 
That  none  with  her  compare." 

With  suspended  emotion,  she  hearkened,  exploit- 
ingly,  as  the  words  of  the  refrain  haunted  her  heart, 
as  they  had  done  in  that  dreaming  phantasy  in  the 
afternoon,  as  he  had  sung  them  in  the  parlor  the 
previous  evening: 

"I'll  live  for  love  or  die! 
So  what  care  I 
Though  death  be  nigh! 
I'll  live  for  love  or  die — or  die — " 

The  phrase  kept  repeating,  until  she  instinctively 
clasped  her  hands  upon  her  ears  to  drown  their  in- 
sistence. 

"Oh,  my  poor  heart!"  she  wailed  in  a  long,  shud- 
dering sigh,  whose  depths  of  pathos  was  a  fresh 
revelation. 

"Ruthie !"  Jean's  voice  exclaimed  through  her 
muffled  hearing.    "My  bairnie?" 

Jean's  arm  encircled  her  quivering  shoulders  and 
there  was  unlimited  wonder  and  dismay  in  her  ex- 
clamations. Instantly.  Ruth  assumed  composure. 
Regard  for  Jean's  frail  health  overcame  her  own 
hysterical  suffering.  She  arose  and  drew  back  into 
a   deep    shadow   beyond   the   bar   of   light.     With 


374  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE     HIGHLANDERS 

supreme  effort  she  steadied  her  voice  to  speak  dis- 
tinctly. 

"I  am  weak  and  silly,  you  may  think,  but  Auntie — 
I — am — in  real  distress.  I've  had  a  telegram  from 
Jamie ;  they  think  Donald  may  die,  and  they  have 
summoned  me  to  him,  and  I  must  go  by  the  first 
train." 

Jean  stared  her  amazement.  "A  telegram,  Ruthie !" 
she  cried,  unbelievingly. 

"It  is  true,  dearie,"  Ruth  spoke,  assuringly  "You 
will  find  it  in  the  studio.  A  man  brought  it  some 
time  ago ;  he  is  to  spend  the  night  with  Kathy.  Find 
the  telegram,  and  then  you  will  understand  and  help 
me  prepare  for  the  journey." 

Jean,  at  last  convinced  that  there  was  a  message, 
was  anxious  to  verify  the  news  by  reading  it,  and 
while  she  found  and  received  the  confirmation  the 
telegram  conveyed,  Ruth  came  from  the  library, 
where  she  had  regained  a  measure  of  outward  calm- 
ness and  a  more  rational  view  of  the  situation. 

"I  think  Donald  must  have  been  guilty  of  some 
untoward  negligence  during  the  late  weather  that 
must  have  been  intolerably  severe  up  there,  con- 
sidering its  bitterness  here.  You  must  be  very  pru- 
dent, bairnie,  and  let  me  hear  from  you  every  day. 
If  the  weather  was  the  least  bit  mild  I  should  go 
with  you,"  Jean  remarked,  solicitously,  crumpling 
the  yellow  slip  in  her  hand,  absently.  With  native 
reserve  she  refrained  from  questioning  Ruth  con- 
cerning her  evident  distress  when  she  found  her  ; 
and  long  ago  she  had  given  up  the  hope  that  Ruth 
and  Donald  would  ever  be  other  than  congenial 
friends. 


A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS  375 

"Kathy  will  go  with  me,  and  you  may  come  later, 
if  I  do  not  return  immediately,"  Ruth  explained ; 
and  soon  Jean  was  alert  to  put  in  motion  the  neces- 
sary preparations  for  the  long  winter  journey,  to 
begin  ere  the  dawn  of  the  following  day. 

Ruth  promised  to  join  her  as  soon  as  she  could 
arrange  her  rooms  for  an  indefinite  absence ;  and 
Jean,  prompted  by  her  sympathy  for  Donald  and 
her  anxiety  for  her  bairnie's  comfort  during  the 
journey,  hastened  away,  to  Ruth's  infinite  relief  and 
gratitude.  In  that  supreme  moment  she  prayed  to 
be  alone  to  summon  strength  for  the  renunciation  so 
vitally  affecting  her  life  to  its  remotest  detail,  ma- 
terially and  spiritually. 

Dizzy  and  heart-weary,  she  set  the  rooms  in  strict 
order,  touching  the  most  cherished  objects  with 
caressing  finger  tips  or  clinging  lips  and  shedding 
tears,  listlessly. 

The  habits  and  ideals  formed  in  long,  solitary 
years  were  embraced  in  the  suddenly  forced  renunci- 
ation ;  forced  in  that  she  was  pledged  to  Donald  and 
must  flee  the  temptation  of  Charley  Thayer's 
winning  influence  and  tempestuous  wooing. 

She  could  accept  any  fate  but  that  achieved 
through  dishonor  and  self-protecting  cruelty  to  an- 
other who  had  trusted  her  vows,  however  equivoc- 
ally promised ;  and  it  was  then  the  startling  revela- 
tion was  flashed  into  her  consciousness  that  Edwin 
Phillips  was  justified  by  the  fataHsm  of  her  own 
destiny. 

"What  is  to  be,  will  be.  All  things  are  pre- 
ordinated  from  the  beginning;  it  is  vain  to  seek 
happiness  if  it  is  not  predestined  by  the  power  that 


376  A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    HIGHLANDERS 

rules  the  atom  and  the  universe,"  was  the  awed  con- 
viction that  stilled  the  last  throb  of  rebellion  to  the 
crisis  which  had  enmeshed  her,  and  set  her  face 
valiantly  toward  the  solemn,  duty-hedged  way  she 
must  tread  with  Donald. 

When  slie  had  finally  arranged  the  hallowed 
rooms,  placing  her  secret  treasures  under  lock  and 
key,  and  draping  others  into  a  sacred  seclusion,  and 
was  closing  the  door,  she  paused,  and  wistfuHy  alert, 
stood  with  strained  attention  set  against  the  winter 
wind  sweeping  eerily  over  the  broad  roofs  of  Kissic- 
Dale;  listening  hungrily  for  some  token  from  the 
forest,  from  its  devoted  denizens,  to  waft  some  com- 
fort to  her  torn  and  suffering  heart;  but  V'.e  runing 
siren  of  the  pines  was  silenced  by  the  bitter  blasts  of 
the  frost  king's  breath ;  and  sighing  hv:!plessly,  she 
locked  the  door  and  took  '\way  the  key. 

Donald  survived,  and  a  few  weeks  later  they  were 
married  in  the  collegiate  town  where  he  was  held  in 
much  honor.  The  interesting  pallor  of  a  recent 
invalidism  was  a  transparent  medium  radiating  his 
blissful  satisfaction.  His  mother  and  Jean  viewed 
their  marriage  vows  through  tears  of  supreme  grati- 
tude ;  and  far  away : 

"Beyond  them  stood  the  forest, 
Stood  the  groves  of  singing  pine-trees; 
Ever  singing,  ever  sighing. 
And  the  pleasant  water-courses. 
You  could  trace  them  through  the  valley." 

THE  END. 


ill 


